Fallout: A Novelization
by deathhamsters
Summary: This is a post-nuclear-apocalyptic story about a small group of friends who, having lived all their lives in a fallout shelter, emerge to find the world unfamiliar and dangerous; scarred yet thriving. A mostly faithful adaptation of Fallout 1.
1. Prologue

**To readers new to the Fallout universe: **

This is a tale of post-nuclear west coast America. In 2077, the world is devastated by nuclear war. Not all is lost, however, as thousands take refuge in large underground fallout shelters called "Vaults". This novelization of the great PC game _Fallout_ tells the story of one group of survivors who emerge from one of the vaults only to find the new post-nuclear world a completely different place than the one their grandparents lived in. It is at once amazing but dangerous, full of life but bleak, thriving but scarred.

Because this is heavily based on the computer game, you may notice that this prologue seems a little… strange. If so, it is because it is an almost exact description of the introduction of the game, more for nostalgic purposes than anything else. In order to get a better taste of my writing style to see if it suits your fancy, please check out chapter one.

**To those already familiar with the Fallout franchise: **

This is my attempt to novelize this awesome game. I have yet to see a complete, thorough, and detailed novelization of the game, so this is my attempt to fill that gap. I try to remain as faithful to the Fallout canon as possible and fully exercise my creativity only where the canon is silent (which, for Fallout 1, happens quite often actually). I borrow as much as possible from the material of the first game since I want this to be as faithful as I can make it and diverge from canon usually only when there are plausibility issues. Just a little more than the notion of being faithful to the game, I wish this to be a more-or-less realistic and believable story, at least as far as the game's mythos allows. To that end, the one big change I am making is to introduce 3 starting characters instead of 1. It just strikes me that if the Vault really were running out of water, the Overseer would at least try to make the quest succeed, hence the inclusion of more characters. The 3 characters I use are derived from the 3 default templates in the original game.

Most of the names, locations, main plot points, and some of the dialogue and written correspondences in this novelization are taken directly from the game. Credit for that goes to the original developers of what I consider to be one of the most defining RPGs of computer gaming.

* * *

><p><em>War. <em>

_War never changes. _

_The Romans waged war to gather slaves and wealth. Spain built an empire from its lust for gold and territory. Hitler shaped a battered Germany into an economic superpower. _

_But war never changes. _

_In the 21st century, war was still waged over the resources that could be acquired. Only this time, the spoils of war were also its weapons: Petroleum and Uranium. For these resources, __China__ would invade __Alaska__, the __US__ would annex __Canada__, and the __European Commonwealth__ would dissolve into quarreling, bickering nation-states, bent on controlling the last remaining resources on Earth. _

_In __2077__, the storm of world war had come again. In two brief hours, most of the planet was reduced to cinders. And from the ashes of nuclear devastation, a new civilization would struggle to arise. _

_A few were able to reach the relative safety of the large underground Vaults. Vault Thirteen was one such vault. There, imprisoned safely behind the large Vault door, under a mountain of stone, a generation has lived without knowledge of the outside world. _

_Life in the Vault is about to change._

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

A black-and-white animated video of a boy in a jumpsuit watering plants flickers into life. The boy waves at the camera as a cog-shaped blast door rolls into place in front of him, blocking him from sight. The video is replaced by the image of a poster of a multi-level bomb shelter built within a mountain. The words "Vault of the Future" stretch across the image, just above the smiling faces of a well-dressed man and woman. The words "Call Now!" flash across the image encouraging the viewer to invest in a shelter space of his or her own in the event of a nuclear holocaust.

"Galaxy News" comes next, identified by the image of a revolving planet Earth with a space shuttle orbiting around it in the opposite direction. 'Our dedicated boys keep the peace in newly annexed Canada' says the Galaxy News Network blurb as the image is replaced by a video of two men in full head-to-toe body armor. Before them kneels a Canadian insurgent, his hands bound behind him. One of the armored soldiers walks up to the man from behind, pulls out a handgun, and fires a bullet into the man's head. The man lurches and falls on his front, his right foot twitching as the soldier fires off another shot into the body for good measure. Noticing the camera, the soldier makes a gesture at his companion to indicate that they are being filmed. Both soldiers face the camera. The one who made the execution waves. The video fades into black, replaced by a patriotic image of the soldier's profile, backed against an American flag with thirteen stars on it, rippling in the wind. "Buy War Bonds" the next image says.

An advertisement for Chryslus' new car model, Corvega, follows, with a list of specifications running horizontally across the screen one by one: "Full Analog System"; "No electronics!", "No computers!"; "800+ Horsepower"; "0 to 60 in 0.5 sec"; "Only 199,999.99."

The next advertisement is of a multi-armed robot called "Mr. Handy". Handy for walking the dog, the ad suggests, using a short video clip of the robot hovering behind a dog leashed to one of its many mechanical arms.

The image flickers and dies as the television set on which the string of ads were being displayed loses power. The reason quickly becomes apparent: the television set sits at the edge of what was once a living room. Now, more than half the ceiling and all of the southern wall are gone, revealing the view of a ruined skyline. The charred innards of the concrete lining the edges of the broken walls, floor, and ceiling frame the sight beyond. Remnants of skyscrapers stand, half-destroyed, in the distance, silent except for a mournful whistling of the wind. Dawn arrives with a gentle orange glow, but its arrival goes unnoticed. For the city is dead.


	2. Chapter 1: Vault 13

**Chapter One: Vault-13**

'Ahh, you're here. Good,' said the grizzled, white-haired old man whom all residents of Vault-13 knew as "The Overseer". 'We've got a problem,' he said. 'A big one.' He transfixed his three guests with his piercing blue eyes, allowing his gaze to settle on each one to make sure they each knew the gravity of the situation.

The first was a slim, young, athletic young woman of Russian descent, with straight black hair cut off evenly just above the shoulders with equally straight bangs just above her brow. The second was a well-groomed man in his late twenties. He had strong, chiseled features and short but wavy brown hair framing his angular face. The last was an enormous man, easily standing head and shoulders above the other man, and then some over the woman. His bright ginger hair was shaved to a flat top. They were all dressed in the standard issue Vault-13 attire – a sturdy, navy blue jumpsuit, plain except for the large numeral '13' on the back and a very functional but minimalistic utility belt at the waist.

They had all gathered in the operations room at the Overseer's behest. This was the central command unit of the entire Vault, where all command and control operations were performed by the leaders of Vault-13, also known as the Central Computer Core, or CCC. Computers were located all over the Vault, tasked with performing basic processes that kept the Vault running, like regulating Vault supplies and functions, and performing routine administrative work. For the sake of efficiency, however, all these workstations could be controlled remotely from the CCC.

The Overseer stared down at them from his raised Overseer's platform in the center of the CCC, which double-functioned as his office. The platform itself was a U-shaped desk-cum-workstation where the Overseer could monitor and control the Vault's myriad processes electronically. In order to grant the Overseer access to the many levels of computer terminals in the CCC, stacked one over the other, the platform was also equipped with a hydraulic life, designed to help provide support, power, and communication lines to the Overseer's platform. It also allowed to platform to be raised or lowered to the multi-tiered levels of computer screens that lined the walls of the CCC. The Overseer currently had his platform raised so he could study one of the visual display units (or VDUs). He brought the platform down to their level, and walked back around it so he was speaking without anything in between them.

'The controller chip for our water purification system has given up the ghost,' he said to the three. He nodded inwardly to himself at the growing look of anxiety on each of their faces. Good. They were taking this seriously. 'Can't make another one,' he continued, 'and the process is too complicated for a workaround system. Simply put…' has paused to collective himself. 'We're running out of drinking water.' The three gave a sharp, collective, intake of breath as the reality of his statement hit home; there was no internal solution to this problem.

'No water, no Vault,' said the Overseer. 'This is crucial to our survival,' he explained, 'and frankly, I…' he paused again, allowing his face to betray the first vestiges of weariness and worry. 'I think you're the only hope we have,' he finished.

The relatively smaller-sized man of the group, Albert, looked like he was about to say something but the Overseer beat him to it. 'You need to go find us another controller chip,' he said to the three. The shock on their faces was less discernible this time, but the anxiety remained, if not intensified. He allowed another pause to let things sink in before continuing. 'We estimate we have four to five months before the Vault runs out of water,' the Overseer continued. 'We _need_ that chip. We've marked your map with the location of another Vault. Not a bad place to start, I think.'

Three separate beeps came from the bulky, watch-like devices each of the visitors had on their wrists. They were RobCo PIPBoy 2000s, the Personal Information Processors designed by RobCo Industries before the war to store data like music, videos, pictures, and documents, and double-function as a GPS tracking system, a timepiece, a calendar, and a diary. The beeps indicated that the Overseer had just, with the press of a button from a small remote connected wirelessly to his central computer, uploaded and updated the electronic maps of the west coast of the former United States that each of them had, preinstalled, on their PIPBoys.

'We need to move the three of you out without delay, so I'm going to you report immediately to the EML on the ground floor. I have already informed my staff to prepare travelling packs for each of you.'

'Wait a minute!' the lady, Natalia, interjected with no small concern in her eyes. 'What about our friends? Our belongings? Our… our lives?'

'I understand how terribly abrupt this all is,' said the Overseer, still speaking in the same measured tones. 'But the more the rest of the Vault knows about this, the more delays we will inevitably have. The whole notion of sending all three of you out there into the world up above is already controversial enough as it is. Imagine the uproar we would have if we told people we were sending not one but _three _of you.'

'Not all of the Vault see that as such a bad thing,' Albert pointed out.

'Not for your little entourage, perhaps' the Overseer replied with a little irritation creeping into his voice. 'But telling _them _would create a whole _other _controversy. They'd _want _to leave with you.'

'And why not let them?' Albert asked, his voice rising ever so slightly. 'I've seen the studies. The radiation count is low. Why don't we just let them decide for themselves if they want to move out?

'We've debated this before,' the Overseer said, frowning. 'Any decision like that has to be made by the community as a whole. Having part of our population, even a minority like yours, just pack up and leave could have dire ramifications for the rest of us here. And besides, you of all people ought to know what's out there. You've read the computer projections about the post-nuclear wasteland. Even if only a handful of them turn out to be true… do you think the rest of us could survive that?' The Overseer paused to allow himself to cool off. Then he gave a slight smile. 'Besides, I'd be out of a job,' he said. 'I'm management. It's not like I know how to do anything useful.'

Albert chuckled softly. 'We agree on that, at least,' he said.

'Wait. So what's going on about our plans?' Natalia asked. The third of the group, Max, just glanced back and forth between the three of them.

The Overseer sighed. 'I'll give you fifteen minutes. Go back to your quarters. Take whatever personal items you feel you will need, but keep it to a minimum. You're going to have a long journey ahead of you. And tell only those you must about this. Only your closest relatives or friends. People you can trust to keep their mouths shut. The last thing we need is a panic.' He shot Albert a quick glance. 'I _will _tell them eventually. About the water chip. About the three of you leaving… I'll have to eventually. Just not so abruptly. And if you care about any of the people here and of the repercussions of your actions, you'll keep that in mind when you go back to your rooms.'

As the three turned to leave the Overseer stopped them.

'One more thing,' he said. 'I won't be able to see you off, so I…' He paused and then fixed them again with his aqua-blue eyes. 'Look, just be safe, okay?'

* * *

><p>Maxwell Stone, or just "Stone" as he was known to his friends, stood in the doorway of his room, wondering what would become of all his possessions. He felt his mother's hand on his arm; that was as about as high as she could reach. He turned and gave her a small smile, bending over to kiss her on her cheek.<p>

'I'll be back soon, Mum,' he reassured her. 'Don't you worry. We'll just head over to that there Vault, and be back with another water chip as soon as you can angrily put your hands on your hips and yell out 'Maxwell Stone!'

His mother gave a teary laugh.

'We'll be praying for you, son,' said his father, coming up behind them. 'And we'll make sure that Overseer doesn't clear out your room.'

Stone turned and gave his father a hug in turn.

'You know why they chose you, don't you?' his father asked.

'It never really crossed my mind,' said Stone.

'It's because _you're_ the only one who can protect the other two if you three ever got into any danger,' said his mother.

'But you don't go looking for trouble, you hear?' said his father.

''Course not, Dad,' Stone said. 'You don't worry about nothin'. '

* * *

><p>Natalia slipped a brown leather wallet, taken from the bottom drawer of her cabinet, into her jumpsuit. It was a set of locksmith tools: a couple of picks and tension wrenches used to open conventional pin and tumbler locks. Its use had gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion during the past seventeen years of her life, mostly with other vault dwellers like herself. Those were the only people who actually had belongings that they locked away with conventional locks. And Natalia, with her mild kleptomania, had probably gone through at least half of all those locks existing in the Vault since she had first successfully learnt how they worked.<p>

'Finally putting that thing to good use, hmm?' came a voice from the doorway. She looked up to see Theresa, one of the other vault dwellers. 'At least you'll be robbing other people _besides _your own family.'

'I don't _rob _anyone,' Natalia retorted. 'I just… borrow. And you're _not _family.'

'Who is, then?' said Theresa. 'I'm the only one you've told.'

'My Dad is my Dad,' said Natalia. 'Nothing's going to change that. But I don't have to like him.'

'Don't you think that if there ever was a time for reconciliation, this might be it?' asked Theresa.

Natalia smirked. 'I think he'd actually be _happier _if I never came back.'

'Don't say that,' Theresa said softly, placing a comforting hand on Natalia's shoulder. Natalia turned her head away as tears came to her eyes. She sniffed once.

'I'm scared,' she finally admitted to her friend. 'It's so stupid,' she said giving a small self-deprecatory laugh. 'I always said I wanted to explore the outside world but… now it's actually happening. And I don't know if I really want to go… And you're not going to be there with me.'

Theresa embraced her friend. 'You don't have to worry about anything. I know Albert. We've been planning our little "exodus" for three years now. He's read all the computer projections of post-nuclear civilization, looked at all the environmental research… If there's anyone in this entire claustrophobic Vault who knows what the world outside will be like, it's him. Just stick close to him and you'll be fine. And don't you worry about me. Sure, I'm jealous as hell. But, once you're back with that chip, you'll have tons of stories to tell and tons of reasons to give the Overseer for why we should all be moving out of the Vault. Just don't…. just don't sleep with Albert, if you can help it.'

Natalia burst into laughter. 'Wh-what?'

'Hey, he's tall, handsome… a little pale, but life in an underground Vault will do that to you… _I'd_ do him.'

'Theresa!' Natalia gasped.

'I said _I'd _do him. You keep your thieving paws to your glittery treasures. He's ten years older than you, for Heaven's sake!'

'I don't _thieve_!' Natalia shot back, but this time in a much more uplifted mood. 'And I have no intentions of… _do_inghim. So you don't have to—'

'What were you planning not to do?' came an all too familiar voice.

'Mr. Cole!' Natalia yelped. Theresa exploded into what would have been laughter had she not turned it into a fit of coughing at the last moment.

'Albert, please,' said the man.

'A-Albert. We were just…' Theresa was off in the corner, tears streaming from her eyes. Natalia's face flushed. She glanced at her friend. Then at the floor. Then she pursed her lips. Theresa suddenly couldn't hold it in anymore and her laughter emerged in heaving guffaws. Natalia's face grew even redder and her annoyance with her friend grew by the same intensity.

'I told Theresa I wouldn't have sex with you, that's what!' she blurted.

Albert's eyebrows lifted but his expression was amused and he took it in his stride. 'I see,' he said, amidst Theresa's laughter. 'Well that's probably good, seeing as to how the Overseer would probably try to arrest me for having sex with a minor if you did.'

Theresa tottered over in stitches. 'I'm sorry,' she said, still laughing.

'You are an evil, evil woman,' Albert smiled at Theresa. 'Really. This Vault is small enough as it is without you trying to pervert the youngest and most promising of the next generation.' He gave Theresa a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 'Will you see us off?'

'Of course,' said Theresa, calming herself down a little.

'And remember,' said Albert to Theresa, as the three made their way to the elevators. 'Not a word of this until after the Overseer announces it… unless, of course, he chooses not to. In which case you have my full permission to screw him and the rest of the Vault leaders in their tight asses.'

* * *

><p>They stood just outside the Vault's Emergency Medical Laboratory (or EML), located on the same floor as the main door that led to the outside world. One of the long tables had been brought out and a number of different items had been laid out on it. Three separate packs stood to the side, each filled to the capacity that each of the three could reasonably carry over long distances, as calculated by one of the EML to help them on their journey. Each of their packs had already been filled with vacuum-sealed travel rations, changes of clothing, several flasks of drinking water, water sterilization tablets, mess tins, a small sewing kit for emergency patchwork, flares, Vault-Tec knives (one per person), a set of waterproof matches, and a bedroll for the cold December nights. On the table lay three pistols, several bricks of ammunition for the handguns, three frighteningly large hypodermics, each with a dial at the top, connected to the delivery tube by two wires, a forty-five length of rope, an issue of <em>Guns and Bullets<em> (that contained details about weapon maintenance and directions on how to operate a firearm effectively),a second issue of _Deans Electronics _(that featured Vault technology and, more importantly, instructions on the workings and maintenance of the water purification system and controller chip), and a first aid kit. The additional equipment was divided evenly with brief explanations by Jacob, except for the rope, which got assigned to Stone, the first aid kit, which was Albert's to carry, and the two journals, which landed in Natalia's pack.

The only thing that needed real explanation were the hypodermics.

'These are Stimulation Delivery Packages,' Jacob explained, 'or stimpaks for short.'

'Epinephrine?' Albert asked, picking up one of them and reading the label.

'That's part of the mixture we have in there. So, yes, you would use it to treat cardiac arrest and anaphylaxis, but it was also designed for combat use around the time when the bombs fell. So, in addition to an immediate surge of adrenaline, it also works to get your body functioning well and long enough to get to some place where you can get more prolonged medical attention. State-of-the-art stuff.'

'Side effects?' asked Albert.

'Don't take more than one in a twenty-four hour period. And use them only in emergencies. This isn't the kind of shit you want to be using to get high on, pardon my French.'

* * *

><p>With the inventory done, the three packed their belongings and made their way to the main security door that would lead them to the outside. Besides the staff the Overseer had selected to get them prepared for their journey, only five others were present: Stone's and Albert's parents, and Theresa. None had siblings. In order to maintain the Vault population, the leaders of Vault-13 had had to monitor birth and death rates. At capacity, the Vault could hold 1,000 occupants, and it had already been operating close to capacity a generation ago. That had meant the introduction of disincentives for having more than one child. Only thirty-percent of the Vault's population had gone over that number; none of the three vault dwellers had come from that thirty-percent.<p>

A single computer terminal sat beside the heavy-duty security doors. Jacob walked with them over to the doors once they had said their final goodbyes. He moved over to the computer terminal, but it was only to check the monitor. The Overseer, many floors down in the CCC had complete control over the door and triggered the opening sequence.

Immediately the two lights above the security door began intermittently and repeatedly flashing red. The '13', emblazoned onto the door, split in two as the two halves of the security barrier slid apart, revealing the long airlock corridor beyond. At the end stood the enormous cog-shaped blast door – the single link between the vault and the outside world.

The three vault dwellers hesitated for a moment. Then Albert led the way, his boots resounding on the metal grating in the airlock. As soon as he stepped foot into the airlock, the fluorescent corridor lights along the corners of the ceiling blinked to life, illuminating the empty passage ahead. Stone and Natalia followed. As they turned to give their friends and families a last wave, the security doors heaved close with a hiss. They watched until the last sight of the Vault was shut off from them.

With an initial ringing of an alarm bell, the white lights went dark, replaced by two red, flashing, turret lights along the ceiling. Klaxons rang out as the huge outer door ahead was slowly pushed out of its moorings by a long metal arm affixed to the center of the door, leaving behind a cog-shaped doorway. Once the door had been pushed out onto a set of steel threads below it, the metal arm retracted. Another mechanical arm slid in from the side, gripping onto the center of the cog and slowly pulling it aside on the threads. As the blast door slowly rolled away, the three vault dwellers saw only darkness, a cavern lying before them. The cog-door rolled to a stop just out of view and the klaxons fell silent.

'Well, this is inviting,' Albert murmured as he reached into his pack for a flare. He rubbed his fingers together as the worn paper crumbled slightly at his touch. He frowned for a moment, but a quick inspection told him that the flare itself was still in good condition. After locating and reading the instructions, he gave the top a quick twist and was rewarded by a burst of white light that filled the corridor of the airlock, dwarfing the dim flashing illumination of the turret lights. 'Shall we?' Albert said to the other two, and took the first step out into the gloom.

Immediately, the light from the flare sprang forth, revealing the astounding dimensions of the cave. The passageway stretched to the southeast where it opened up into a large high-roofed cavern. Stalactites, stalagmites, and thick columns of rock that reached from floor to ceiling, lined the sides of the passageway. Overhead they could see old lights that had been affixed to the roof of the cave but that had long ago ceased to work.

As they stood, taking in the new environment – the echo of the tiniest movement, the feel of stone beneath their boots (a sharp difference from the metal walkways of the Vault), the drop in temperature of the cavern air – the door behind them slowly rolled back into place. The klaxons rang out again once more but were soon drowned out as the heavy blast door slid back into its original position, blocking them off totally from the only life they had ever known. A single terminal stood beside the Vault door, requiring but a simple access code to allow them back in. But while that thought had crossed each of their minds, they knew full well that there could be no going back until they had returned with the chip. The Overseer was right. Without the chip, there could be no clean water. Without clean water, there could be no Vault. And as much as people like Albert and Theresa wanted the Vault dwellers to have the freedom to leave if they so chose, they each knew that the choice was what was important. Just as the two had taken issue countless times with what they saw as the Overseer's over-protectiveness, so they realized just how much worse a forced decision to leave the Vault would be for those residing within. They _had _to find that chip before any other discussions could be made.

As the last echoes died down, the trio turned from the door and to the path ahead of them. As Albert took the first step forward, his foot landed on something sticking out of the ground and he nearly stumbled. He took a step back and lowered the flare. Natalia gave a small scream. Lying not ten feet from the Vault's outer door lay a skeleton dressed in the ragged remains of a Vault-13 jumpsuit, one of its arms reaching out towards the door.

'Who is he?' Natalia asked, recovering from her initial shock.

'There were only two Vault dwellers who ever left before us,' said Albert. 'Ed and Talius.'

'So is he Ed? Or Talius?'

'I don't know,' said Albert.

Natalia knelt over by Albert to examine the skeleton for clues.

'His pack is empty,' she observed as she rifled through the pockets of the jumpsuit. 'Perhaps someone else coming out of the Vault could have taken his equipment…'

'So you're saying that this could be Ed and that he died and Talius, who came later, salvaged what he could of the body?'

'Just a hypothesis,' said Natalia. 'Who knows what else lies out there? Maybe someone just came in here, found the body, and looted the remains. I wonder what he died of, though.' She pulled Albert's hand with the flare down so she could take a closer look at the bones. The touch of their hands made her abruptly remember her awkward outburst early outside her room. She released his hand and tried to push the thoughts aside.

'All the bones seem intact,' said Albert.

'There!' said Natalia, and Albert lowered the flare even further to where she was pointing. 'Teeth marks,' she said, pointing to the indentations in the skeleton's tibia.

'Poor sod probably got eaten by rats,' said Stone glancing down at the two of them and the skeleton.

'Before or after he died?' Natalia asked grimly.

'Did you hear that?' Stone said. The other two looked up from where they had been examining the skeleton. Stone was staring off into the darkness. He took a step forward and immediately pulled back.

'What is it, Stone?' asked Albert, raising the flare again.

Under the light of the flare Stone lifted up his boot and inspected the semi-solid pulp sticking to its underside.

'Shit,' he muttered. As Albert raised the flare the three vault dwellers became suddenly aware of the large amount of rat feces littering the passageway ahead of them.

'There!' Natalia said for the second time, pointing at something moving in the cavern up ahead, close to the ground.

'Sharp eyes,' Albert commented as they all focused their sight onto something small shuffling about. Yet it wasn't small. Not for its size.

'It _is _a rat,' Natalia breathed.

'Can't be,' said Albert. 'That thing's the size of Stone's boot.'

'Exactly,' said Natalia. 'And I think I know what might have killed our friend here.'

At that moment, the furry creature turned its head. A pair of pale, glowing blue eyes gleamed at them from the darkness. And then the thing charged.

'What the h—' Albert began, but Stone was already reaching for the gun in the side compartment of his pack. Albert fumbled with the knife attached to his utility belt. Natalia got hers out first. The enormous rat, for that was, indeed, what it was, scrambled towards them, hunger in its shining eyes, its paws making tiny slapping noises on the cavern floor.

It was less than twenty feet away when Stone got finally got his gun aimed.

'Wait!' Natalia called, placing one hand on Stone's wrist. With her other, she hefted the blade and, with a mere ten feet between herself and the rat, hurled it. The knife embedded itself into the creature's head and it gave an unpleasant squeal that was far too loud for comfort before sliding to a complete stop.

'I've heard of rats ganging up on wounded animals,' said Albert, 'but to take on three full-sized humans… and a half…' He added the last note with a glance at Stone.

'It must've been starving,' she said. 'Or just plain aggressive. If I were three times my normal size, I might have delusions of grandeur myself.'

'Speaking of which,' said Albert, finally freeing his own knife and using it to prod at the corpse. 'I know mutations like this have been projected in the computer simulations, but the scale of it… Let's just hope they don't get any bigger than that.'

'I second that,' said Natalia, 'but don't you think perhaps we should get out of this cave as soon as possible? Who knows how many more mutated rats are lurking in the darkness?'

'Agreed,' said Albert, and the three made their way forward. This time, Natalia had her blade in hand while Stone had his gun at the ready.

'Do you actually know how to use that?' Natalia asked as they moved on.

'Safety's off, if that's what you mean,' said Stone. 'I may not be the brightest Vault dweller, but I watch enough movies to know how to use a gun.'

'Wait one moment,' said Natalia, pausing in mid-stride. 'Have you ever actually physically used a gun or read about how to use one?'

'It's illegal to hold or fire a weapon in the Vault,' said Stone. 'Even I know that.'

'The first thing we need to do when we get out of this cave,' said Natalia to Albert, 'is take a good long look at that gun rag.'

'Speaking of weapon skills,' said Albert, as they emerged into the cavern, 'where did you learn to throw a knife like that? That thing wasn't even made for throwing.'

'I have an old battered corkboard in my room. I used to practice with dinner knives I… borrowed from the dining commons. Once you know how the weight of a thin object like a knife shifts in flight, all you really need to do is make the right adjustments to your angle, velocity, and spin.'

'You make it sound so simple,' Albert joked. 'You must be pretty gifted.' He stopped and the other two followed suit. In the gloom they tried to make out where to go next. The cavern was joined to two other smaller caves to the northeast and southwest, but the light of the flare was enough to show that they were dead ends. Only a single passage to the southeast lead out of the cavern.

They were halfway towards the southeast passageway when they heard more scrabbling, this time from the adjoining cave to the northeast.

'Do you see it?' asked Albert, relying on Natalia's better eyesight.

'I don't see _it_,' she said, 'I see _them_.' She pointed to a column of rock fifteen yards away. A group of three rats had emerged from around the column. 'Well, the odds have definitely been evened now,' she said. 'Max, I sincerely hope your movies pay off.'

The three rats spotted them and charged. Stone raised his firearm. And fired.

And suddenly, one gunshot sounded like a dozen – a dozen gunshots magnified by ten.

One of the rats had its head explode like a melon. The other two, splashed with its blood, didn't even slow. Both Albert and Natalia had their hands over their ears.

'Ooooh. Did _not _remember that!' she groaned.

'Keep your ears covered,' said Stone as he fired off another round. This one missed. It hit the stone just in front of the nearest rat, peppering it with splintered pieces of rock. The rat squirmed and twisted away from the small explosion of stone but resumed its assault. The two remaining rats had gotten close enough to be worrisome now and Natalia removed her hands from her ears, raised her arm, and let her knife fly. It hit its mark, skewering the second rat.

Albert raised his own pistol at the final rat and pulled the trigger only to find that it didn't depress.

'Cock it!' Stone shouted at him.

'What the hell does that mean?' Albert yelled back. But by then the last rat had already gotten too close. It reached Natalia and actually made a leap for her leg. She deftly sidestepped it, causing it to land right in the middle of all three of them. Stone lowered his gun and fired another round, pulverizing one of the rat's hind legs. But that didn't stop it.

Albert growled in frustration at his failure with the gun. Taking one step forward, he aimed a kick at the rat's head. His foot connected, he heard something crack, and the rat was lifted into air and carried two feet. It landed with a thud and didn't move.

'Dammit!' Natalia swore at the ringing in her ears. 'Let's get the hell out of this cave before more come and Stone fires off that blasted cannon again!'

The three broke into a jog to reach the southeastern passageway, passing, as they did so, a large pile of bleached animal bones. They raced onwards, entering the passage and following it as it made a bend to the southwest. From there, it ran straight on, and as they covered more distance, they began to become aware of a natural light coming from the west.

They turned another small corner in the tunnel and found themselves suddenly bursting out from the mouth of a cave. The exit opened out on a dilapidated old road that ran down the side of the mountain to join the remains of a north-south road. The sun was still rising off to the east behind the mountains behind them but there was ample enough light in the sky to give them a magnificent view of the Sierra Nevada stretched out all around them. For the first time in their lives, they were looking at the outside world.


	3. Chapter 2: The Wasteland

This chapter was, strangely enough, both harder to write as well as the least contributive to the plot. The main problem is pacing (and the concern that it may be a little boring to those who might just want me to dive right into the main plot). I'm not sure if the chapter reads well, but I felt that I _had _to account for their first trek into the wilderness. Everything's new to them and I feel that, in trying to give my novelization a more realistic feel, I had to include at least this first desert journey.

Chapter Three will find the three vault dwellers in Shady Sands. I'm expecting this chapter to be easier to write since the game will provide a lot of the material I'll need. AND, I won't have to keep on looking at googlemaps and comparing it with the Fallout map to try and locate the various places in the Fallout universe on an actual map of the US. That was… hard (and probably unnecessary)… and I don't even think I got it right.

As before, reviews are more than welcome. Thanks to the two reviewers so far!

**Chapter Two: The Wasteland**

Half an hour after they had exited the cave, the three began repacking to begin their journey. Over the past few minutes, Natalia and Albert had pored over the _Guns and Bullets _magazine to learn more about the technicalities of handling a firearm. Never in the entire time since the Overseer had told them of their mission had any one of them even considered that they would have had to use their weapons this soon after leaving the Vault.

Stone was a natural with the gun, it seemed (whatever movies he had been watching had somehow proven useful – worryingly so, in fact). Still, the other two knew they couldn't rely solely on him to watch out for them. The incident with the three rats had proven that.

Albert got up from the seat he had taken on a pile of weathered bones that vaguely resembled a horned kangaroo, which didn't make logical _or _geographical sense. Nevertheless, there it lay amidst a coarse growth of desert weeds.

Their maps showed that the small mountain road before them led south, and then turned to the southeast to join the remains of the old Californian highway 168. From there, 168 then curled back northeast to join 266 at the California-Nevada border. If they followed this route, they would eventually end at Veterans Memorial Highway. Figuring that keeping to the relatively low-lying main roads, pitted and worn though they were, would better save them time and energy than trying to cut straight across the mountains, they set forth on their quest to Vault-15 far to the east.

It took them almost three hours to find their way down to 168 using the mountain road. The initial surroundings, though bleak and desolate – vegetation was sparse, mostly comprised of small desert scrubs – was not really so different from what this part of Southern California had looked like _before _the war. The roads were pitted and had slowly been worn away by the elements for the past eighty-four years, but the rest of the mostly treeless environment still looked like how it had all those years ago. Only the occasional gnarled husk reminded them that a global disaster had swept through this land almost a century ago.

168 was a lovely, curving, valley road that would run on for another thirty-five miles or so before finally hitting 266. Undulating hills hemmed the road in, providing the trio with some semblance of seclusion. The initial novelty of traveling through a world that seemed to have been forgotten by civilization (which was now thriving within the multiple vaults across the country) dissipated somewhat after the first thirty minutes on 266, and it soon dawned on them how big and lonely the outside world was. Eighty-four years ago, they probably would have seen a car every few minutes or so. Now it was just them and the wind. It didn't help that they were far from any of the old pre-war towns or cities. By this point, the hills surrounding 266 had widened out and they found themselves moving out into more open plains, leaving the hills behind them.

As they walked ever eastwards, they decided to pass the time by finding out more about one another. Stone was, as everyone in the Vault knew, the largest person in existence… at least to the best knowledge of those who lived in the Vault-13 community. No one actually knew how he had gotten that big since both his parents were slightly above average size at best. He worked out at the gym, as did many of the other vault dwellers, but that alone couldn't account for his tremendous size and strength.

While far from a bumbling idiot, it soon became clear to Albert and Natalia that Stone's strong point wasn't exactly his reasoning faculties. To Albert, Stone was like a college football player who had been dropped on his head one too many times at birth. As it turned out, this comparison wasn't entirely false, as the other two found when Stone admitted that shortly after his birth, the labor bot in the EML had dropped him on his head. Whether or not that had actually affected his intelligence, the fact remained that Stone had been assigned a Vault career as a laundry cannon operator. Neither Albert nor Natalia knew the Vault even had a laundry cannon. Neither even knew what a laundry cannon was. Stone's attempt to explain it to them didn't help.

Despite his intellectual limitations, both Albert and Natalia knew that Stone would prove to be an asset to the team. Not only could he help out the most with carrying the group's traveling provisions, but his strength (and recently discovered skill with a handgun) would prove invaluable in a crisis.

Natalia Dubrovhsky was a grandchild of a Russian diplomat who had worked at the Russian Embassy in San Francisco during the war. She had turned out nothing like her grandfather, however, as she had spent more of her free time in acrobatics than in practicing her communication skills with other vault dwellers. It was clear, as Albert had noted earlier, that she was a gifted individual but, from their conversation, it also became increasingly apparent that she was also extremely intelligent and resourceful. When Albert had asked about her about her career in the Vault, she had told him that she hadn't been working long and that her job couldn't therefore actually be called a 'career'. Like all Vault dwellers, she had taken her G.O.A.T., or Generalized Occupation Aptitude Test, when she had turned sixteen, which had only been a year-and-a-half ago. Her "job", it turned out, was as a masseuse, which raised both men's eyebrows.

'I don't do freebies,' she made sure to add.

Albert Cole, as the other two had discovered, was the leader of a small, vocal minority of the Vault's population that was considering life on the outside world. At twenty-seven, he was the oldest of the group and, probably owing to his skills as a negotiator, had been working as a marriage counselor since his own G.O.A.T. That earned a laugh from both Natalia and Stone.

'Unfortunately, the Overseer seems impervious to my charms,' said Albert in good humor.

By the time they had gotten their lengthy introductions done, they were wide out in the open, with mountains in the distance to the west and east. The 168 had shifted from its eastward direction to a more northeasterly one. They followed this for nearly another three-and-a-half hours before spotting a small handful of buildings in the distance to the east, less than a mile off the road.

It was past one in the afternoon by this point and though the daytime weather in December was relatively cooler than in the Vault, none of them were accustomed to traveling so much in a day. They had already covered nineteen miles and had another fifty or so to go before they reached Veterans Memorial Highway. That would take at least another two days at the rate they were going.

Pulling off the road, they made their way to the old ranch.

The place was empty, as they had expected. Not a single car was left, suggesting that the original owners had probably fled or tried to when the bombs fell. Judging by the open drawers and cabinets, the former occupants had either taken everything they had wanted and left in a hurry or the place had been looted after.

They took a two hour break for lunch (which comprised of high-energy protein bars) before resuming their journey. Natalia and Stone each took a little memento to show the people back home. Stone pocketed a baseball while Natalia, after looking around, walked outside and brought back a rock.

'First signs of a former civilization and you decide to take home a rock,' Albert joked.

'Everyone in the Vault _knows_ what technology is,' said Natalia. She tossed the rock thoughtfully in the air and caught it. 'No one's seen nature out in the open… Hydro-agricultural produce doesn't count.'

Four-and-a-half more hours of walking brought them to the junction of 168 and 266 where they found some old abandoned caravans in a disused parking lot and a road leading off the highway to yet another ranch. Natalia had reasoned that if they could aim to reach major road intersections by the end of each day (or most days), their chances of having a place to shelter in for the night would be higher. The presence of the ranch proved her deductions had been correct.

Like the previous one, this ranch was empty and had been already been ransacked long ago. Since it was just the three of them, each of them got their own room for the night. Finding some empty buckets, they laid them out in case it rained at night. It had become apparent to them that their water supplies were only going to be able to get them as far as Vault-15, and that was provided there were no significant delays or hiccups along the way. That meant that, if they wanted to maximize their travel capacity, they would have to rely on the environment at some point for water. Neither Stone nor Natalia was particularly keen on drinking rainwater that might still have traces of radioactivity, despite Albert's assurances that small levels wouldn't kill them or harm to their systems, but all three recognized that circumstances might not be quite as accommodating.

The gas canisters had been taken from the building ages ago and, since it seemed superfluous to use the gasless stoves, the three Vault dwellers lit a small fire near the window in one of the rooms using manageable-sized pieces of wooden furniture they found within and dry clumps of desert scrub for kindling. They piled some dirt into a large ceramic bowl from the kitchen and built their small fire within so there would be no risk of burning the house down. The decision to light the fire in doors was to avoid any unwanted attention from desert scavengers. Each of them remembered to clearly their run-in with the rats and didn't want to have history repeat itself, especially not while they were all exhausted from the day's journey.

Their travel rations consisted of some sort of protein-high slop that had been compressed together to look like reconstituted vomit, but, heated in the mess tins, it didn't taste all bad. All three, even Stone, were exhausted from their long trek that day and, foregoing conversation, they collectively decided to have an early night. Within the shelter of the building, the temperature wasn't quite as low as they had expected and the bedroll each had brought was more than enough to spare them discomfort from the chilly night air. Despite the abrupt difference in sleeping conditions from that in the Vault, their exhaustion was enough to guarantee them rest and, having barred the main door downstairs, they each fell asleep almost as soon as their heads touched the floor.

The next morning, they woke to a tremendous aching in their bodies, both from the walking and from carrying their heavy packs over such a long distance. They were all silent as they packed up and moved their weary bodies out of the house. Even Albert, the _leader_ of those in the Vault who wanted to leave, could not help but acknowledge that, even with all his planning and projections, there were things in Vault-13 he had come to take for granted, least of all a clean shower in the morning and a working toilet. While they all yearned for extra rest, however, they each knew that even with time to spare, their food and water supplies couldn't be squandered just sitting and resting in the house all day.

At first light, they headed east on 266, crossing the California-Nevada border, each wrapped in his or her own thoughts for the first few hours of their journey. Again, all that met them was silence, save the occasional gust of wind. The early morning was frigid but with the sun on their faces and their constant movement east, they soon warmed up. This part of their journey was very open indeed, with mountains far off in the distance. Three hours into their walk, the surrounding treeless hills began gently closing in again. At noon, finding no shelter, they stopped briefly for lunch by the side of the road before moving on.

As they carried on into the afternoon, Albert began filling the other two in on some of the projections he had studied. Possibilities ranged from the most prosperous (that other Vaults had emerged sooner and had repopulated most of the old pre-war cities and towns, or that certain cities had been lucky enough to be spared both the bombs and the majority of the radiation and had been repopulating soon after the war) to the bleakest (that no one else had emerged from the Vaults yet and they were the only ones in the American wilderness). More plausible possibilities included mutated wildlife and communities of human beings that had escaped the blast but not the radiation, settlements that had sprung from other Vaults and met with varying degrees of success in the wasteland, and roving bands of post-Vault bandits preying on such settlements.

While Albert had plenty to say about each possibility and about his plans for how Vault-13 residents could survive each event, he could only talk for so long and the knowledge that their water supplies would not last indefinitely soon made them consciously decide to minimize their conversations while traversing the wilderness. Their water would probably last them another four days. That would be enough to get them to Vault-15 _if _they had flat roads to follow. But their PIPBoy maps didn't show anything past Veterans Memorial Highway. If they didn't find a decent path to follow, that would mean cutting across country which, if they were unlucky, could double or triple their traveling time for the last leg of the journey.

At this time of the year, the sun rose early, at about a quarter-to-seven, but it also set at around four-thirty in the afternoon. As they discovered the previous night, the last stretch of their day was therefore traversed in relative darkness. Here, the surrounding hills were well populated by short trees. As before, all the trees were dead. But this time, the sheer volume of trees surrounding them gave them, for the first time since leaving the Vault, the starkest reminder that they were walking through a post-nuclear wasteland.

They had already gone an hour past sunset, hoping in vain to find shelter, and were about to resign themselves to making camp beside the road, since they could reach no major junction anytime soon, when they spotted a small abandoned settlement. Grateful for yet another night of shelter, they picked up their pace. As with the two ranches the previous day, this small settlement was also empty. They picked a house which could be most effectively barricaded from within and settled in for yet another night of heated reconstituted vomit for dinner.

Stone wasn't much of a conversationalist and went straight to bed, leaving Natalia and Albert to chat in the dark by the remnants of their small fire.

'So is it everything you hoped it would be?' asked Natalia as she lay on her bedroll, staring at the ceiling.

'It was never about what it _would _be,' she heard Albert's voice come back through the darkness. Natalia kept silent during the pause, prompting Albert to proceed. 'Are you familiar with the term "GECK"?' he asked.

'Sounds like a lizard.'

'It stands for "Garden of Eden Creation Kit". When the vaults were built, Future-Tec, a division of the company that made the vaults, issued each vault with two of these GECKs. Each of them is about the size of a large briefcase, and contains all the seeds, chemicals, and other soil supplements a community would need to make a wasteland conducive for farming.'

'Anything to protect against giant rats?'

'Well, each also comes with an inbuilt library with schematics for salvaging our Vault for parts which could then be used to build adobe huts and defenses for the community.'

'Salvaging? No wonder the Overseer's so reluctant to let anyone move out.'

'Not everything has to be salvaged. Theresa and I have been trying to negotiate with the Overseer to let us take the non-essentials – things the Vault could do without. And we'd be in a much better position than a lot of other vaults because, for some reason, our Vault was issued _three _GECKs instead of two. Compared to the rest, _our _Vault has fifty percent more agricultural resources. We'd have a _much _higher chance of survival than any other vault.'

'Against starvation, perhaps. But what about all those other things you mentioned in the projections? If the Overseer doesn't allow you to scrap the Vault for parts to build defenses, you'd just be making your community a juicy target for any hostile wasteland scavenger.'

'Which is why we've been pressing the Overseer to send out scouting parties to gauge what the situation is like on the ground. All we've done so far in the way of progressing towards returning to the surface is test the radiation of ground water.'

'And the result?'

'It's nothing our GECKs wouldn't be able to handle.'

Natalia was silent as she pondered the new information.

'Theresa's been telling me _you've _been showing interest in leaving the Vault,' Albert said to break the silence.

'I was… or I am, rather. I just didn't expect it to come so suddenly.'

'Well, if it makes you feel any better, I envisioned leaving the Vault with at least twenty other well-equipped scouts following behind me. And I sure didn't expect to have the element of time pressure working against us.'

There was another pause in the flow of the conversation as both of them were reminded of the dwindling water supplies in the Vault.

'What if they don't have a water chip?' Natalia asked, knowing Albert was thinking about the same thing she was.

'The residents of Vault-15?'

'I mean, if we don't have a replacement, why should they?'

Albert was silent for a moment. 'Part of me wants to say that there may have been some kind of logistical mix-up when the vaults were equipped. We did get an extra GECK after all. That kind of thing doesn't come cheap. Maybe some other Vault got our extra water chips but were shortchanged on a GECK.'

'We still need a contingency, though.'

'I agree. Except that Vault-15's our only lead for now. Perhaps the people there will know of other vaults we might check.'

'And if not?'

'Then we put the pressure on our Overseer to move the rest of the vault dwellers out and start learning how to live in the outside world before it's too late.'

Another pause in the flow of the conversation.

'You're not just going to hand it over, are you?' Natalia realized. 'You're going to use it as a bargaining chip.'

'At least for getting us started with the scouting parties. As much as I hate to admit it, the Overseer's right. We can just leave the Vault on short notice. There are probably creatures worse than giant rats out here. We need good information in order to determine how best to prepare ourselves. And to do that we need to have people on the ground actually learning firsthand about the wasteland.'

'That could take awhile. Longer than either you or I have.'

'I know. But it's not _about _you or me, is it? It's about progress. It's about rebuilding America. And it may take decades, but it has to start somewhere, doesn't it? It may as well begin with us.'

'That sounds very noble.'

Albert gave a short laugh. 'Actually, it's a speech I tried on the Overseer a couple of months back. Didn't work.'

'Do you believe in it, though?'

Silence for a few seconds.

'I don't think I have the capacity for such a vision. All I want to do is give the people of Vault-13 the freedom to choose whether they stay or leave. And to do that, either option has to be viable.'

* * *

><p>On the third day, they set off much as they had before, waking just before sunrise, and allowing the rising sun to help warm up their bodies. After an hour of treeless hills, they once again broke out into wide open territory. This day turned out to be the bleakest of the three. From morning till evening, their journey took them through unchanging desert-like surroundings. But while the topography didn't change, the weather did, and not in a favorable way. By two in the afternoon, the sky had become overcast and, shortly after, poured down on them all the way until they reached Veterans Memorial Highway. It allowed them to fill their canteens, but it also made their journey miserable.<p>

As they reached the end of 266, they all had their eyes peeled for any kind of shelter to camp in, trusting that the pre-war residents of Nevada must surely have put up a rest stop or gas station or some kind of shelter at the junction. What they found, instead, took them all by surprise.

Surrounding what must have, at one point, been a single-lane airstrip stood an encircling adobe wall, the only entrance being the beginnings of the actual runway as it stretched out beyond the walls towards the southwest. That in itself was strange, for no aircraft, however small, would have been able to fit through the single archway to the walled compound. The entryway was too narrow and too low. People would be able to go through it, and perhaps small vehicles, but not airplanes. This airstrip had clearly been reappropriated for a different use.

What was more astounding, however, was the glow of what could only be small fireplaces, rising from over the top of the walls. The three vault dwellers shared glances of bewilderment with each other. They had not just found a potential shelter for the night; they had found an occupied one.


	4. Chapter 3: Shady Sands

**Chapter Three: Shady Sands**

As the three neared the gates, they noticed two people standing by the entrance – the first signs of human life they had seen since leaving Vault-13. They couldn't make out the details of the two people in the dark but it became apparent that at least one of them, the man, was armed with a hunting rifle of some sort. A single guard tower was the only building they could see that rose up from behind the wall. A lone figure, standing in the crow's nest of the tower, spotted them and gave a small but sharp whistle to the man below at the entrance who unslung his rifle and got up from his seat. He made a gesture with his hand to someone out of sight behind the wall and he was soon joined with two other men carrying what looked to be handcrafted spears.

'Greetings, strangers,' the first man called to them. 'Rather late to be wandering arousnd the wastelands, isn't it?'

'We were actually pushing ourselves on in the hopes of finding shelter for the night,' said Albert.

'Well, you're not dressed or equipped like raiders, but we've been wrong before.'

'Wait, Seth,' said the woman, her eyes wide with surprise. 'Look at their clothes. They're… they're from a vault!'

'Is that true?' said the man called Seth, his voice losing some of its edge.

'We are,' Albert replied.

'Quite a number of us come from a Vault to the east,' said the woman. 'I'm Katrina. And this here is Seth.'

The vault dwellers took turns introducing themselves.

'You say you come from a vault to the east,' said Albert, his voice betraying his clear interest. 'You're not talking about Vault-15, are you?'

'You know of us?' Katrina gasped.

'We're headed in that direction,' said Albert. 'Our vault needs a new water purification chip and we were hoping Vault-15 would have a spare.'

'Oh,' Katrina said. Her face fell. 'You… you'd better come in,' she said. 'There are a few things you should know about Vault-15.'

'Why, what's wrong?' Albert asked as the three were permitted entry into the town. The woman led the way up the runway. The one called Seth indicated to his two companions to follow them as a precautionary measure.

'Vault-15… isn't the place it used to be,' Katrina replied. 'At least, so I hear. One of the merchants who comes to our town every once in awhile said he had tried to go to the vault with his caravan to have a look around a couple of months ago, but the lights were all out, the elevator was broken, and the stairwells were blocked by rubble.'

'What happened?'

'I couldn't say, exactly. Almost twenty years ago, when I was still a girl, the Vault got attacked by raiders. I got injured and blacked out. By the time I woke, we were already out in the wilderness, wandering aimlessly and looking for a place to settle down.'

Albert exhaled heavily.

'Do you suppose the Vault had any spare water purification chips in its store?' he asked.

'I'm not sure. But our leader, Aradesh, might know. He was with us from the beginning.'

'Can we meet with him?' Albert asked.

'That's where I'm taking you,' said Katrina. 'Aradesh likes to meet all newcomers to Shady Sands.'

'Shady Sands. That's the name of this town?'

'It is,' said Katrina as they passed by a pillar that stood in the center of the runway at what seemed to be the place in the town with the most concentrate congregation of adobe huts. The three vault dwellers looked up at the showpiece of Shady Sands. Its four sides and pedestal were covered in words and pictures. They were passing by too quickly to read the words but the images clearly showed the historical intent and content of the showpiece. The pictures went in chronological order from the base to the top. At the bottom were mushroom shaped clouds symbolizing the fall of civilization in 2077. Interspersed with the images of nuclear explosions were paintings of hundreds of people entering subterranean vaults. At the very top of the pillar were pictures of people laying bricks and farming together. It was, if anything, a depiction of hope and peace. But whether the topmost images were of a period now past or of an anticipated future was left unknown to the vault dwellers.

They finally arrived at the town hall – the only pre-war building in the town. Before the war it had been part of the small airstrip. Now it functioned as the meeting center, dining hall, and kitchen for the entire Shady Sands community. The main room was large and filled with handmade tables and chairs. The building must have once consisted of just one big room but the townspeople had created partitions and additional rooms using what appeared to be tanned animal skins attached to vertical wooden frames. The makeshift walls had no doors but curtains made of pieces of cloth sewn together functioned as substitutes. Katrina left the three vault dwellers in the main room and disappeared behind one of the curtains. A short while later, she returned accompanied by a tall middle-aged man with close-cropped black hair and a long, lanky face. His large eyes stared down at them over his hawkish nose with undisguised suspicion. He glanced at their attire and his features softened, but only a for a moment.

'Greetings,' he said in a strange accent that sounded almost south Asian. None of the vault dwellers could place his origins with any certainty. If they had to place him by his looks and voice, they might have attributed to him a mixture of south Asian and native American descent. 'Your business in Shady Sands might be?'

It was clear that this man was the authority figure of the village – Aradesh, Katrina had called him. It was also clear that he was not very trusting of outsiders.

'We come from a Vault to the west,' said Albert on behalf of the group. 'We are on our way to Vault-15 in the hopes of finding a water purifier chip to replace ours. Our arrival here was purely fortuitous. In fact, your town holds the first signs of human life we've encountered since leaving our vault.'

The tall man's face betrayed a look of puzzlement, contemplation, and, still, a hint of mistrust. He rubbed his cleft chin thoughtfully.

'Your attire matches your story,' he said, 'but raiders have infiltrated our peaceful community before under similar pretences.' He gave each of them a hard look before eventually coming to a decision. 'I shall believe you… for now,' he said. 'You will be permitted to stay in Shady Sands for tonight, but be warned that your every move will be watched.'

'We thank you for your hospitality,' Albert said with a slight nod.

'It's late, but I will have some food set for you. Katrina will tell you what you need to know and show you to your accommodations for the night. We will speak more tomorrow morning.'

With that, the town leader turned and left through the curtain to the room from whence he had first come.

'Well, that… could have gone worse,' Natalia commented.

Katrina, who had been standing by the side while Aradesh had grilled them, now returned to them and bade them sit at one of the tables. Then she departed through the other curtained entryway.

'We didn't get the information we were looking for,' said Natalia as they waited.

'In time,' said Albert. 'With any luck, we'll be able to gradually earn the trust of these people, but the one thing we _can't _do is lose what little credibility we have right now. We'll take things slow. We're seeing Aradesh again tomorrow, anyway. Perhaps we can ask him then.'

Katrina returned with three sets of clean clothes. They were clothes the vault dwellers had only ever seen in movies and documentaries of pre-war times. All they had ever known were the multipurpose blue jumpsuits of the vault.

'Let me take you to our guesthouse,' she said, and led the way out of the town hall. They walked back down the runway until they came to an adobe hut near the entrance to town where Seth still stood guard. The hut stood almost immediately opposite a larger adobe building that, Katrina told them, was the guardhouse.

The guesthouse was square-shaped and had, for windows, a mix of semicircular openings and horizontal slats. The former were to provide the occupants with a view of the outside, the latter were too high up on the walls to look out of and were probably for ventilation purposes. The main section of the house triple functioned as a living room, dining room, and kitchen. The kitchen area was extremely rudimentary. A clay pot, a wooden bowl, and a pestle for crushing and separating grains sat on the floor just next to a simple wood-burning stove, which itself was situated next to one of the semicircular windows. In the center of the room stood a single handmade table with two wooden chairs. At the other end was a bookcase full of tattered novels. A simple woven rug sat before it, a clear substitute for what might otherwise have been a sofa or lounge chair.

A partition of animal hide set in wooden frames, just like they had seen in the town hall, created the walls for a second room. Passing through the curtain, they found themselves in a bedroom comprised of nothing but a queen-sized bed.

Katrina informed them of the existence of a small outhouse not too far from the guesthouse. It was a smaller adobe construct with two toilets separated from each other by the same animal-hide walls and curtain-doors. There was no flushing system; only a large pile of leaves next to each toilet to be dropped down the hole to help manage the odor of the large compost heap dug below it.

With the short tour, Katrina handed the dry clothes over to them and told them to meet her back at the dining room in the town hall once they had changed. The three vault dwellers were grateful to be out of their soggy jumpsuits but even more grateful for the sandals. For the past few hours, it had been their waterlogged boots that had been the main source of discomfort. Thanking Katrina, they proceeded to get changed in anticipation of a freshly cooked meal.

* * *

><p>'So what can I tell you more about while we wait for the food to be prepared?' Katrina asked, half-an-hour later when they had each taken a seat around one of the tables in the town hall. Besides Katrina, only their two guards, who had been assigned with making sure they did not outstay their welcome in any way, were present. The guards stood by the door, their spears held casually but very visibly by their sides.<p>

'Where to begin?' said Albert. 'How does a place like Shady Sands even survive out here?'

'It's not always easy, believe me,' Katrina replied. 'But we have our own irrigation system so we can grow our own food. And whatever we don't have, whether its equipment or produce, we trade.'

'Trade? With whom?' asked Natalia.

'Mostly with merchants from other towns.'

'There are _other _places like this?' Natalia asked wide-eyed.

'Oh, not like _this_,' Katrina corrected her. 'Now, I haven't actually travelled much, but from what I hear, some of the other towns are _huge _compared to Shady Sands.'

'Where are these places?' asked Albert.

'Somewhere to the south. I couldn't say exactly. Ian would know more. He's far more widely travelled than I.'

'Where is he?' Albert said, continuing the flow of questions.

'He's over in the guardhouse – the one right by the entrance. He used to be a merchant guard but he's been recovering here in Shady Sands since he got injured in a raider attack.'

'You mentioned raiders before,' said Albert. 'You said they attacked your vault.'

'Well, _they_…are not just one group. There are at least three gangs around this area. You'd have to ask Ian or Seth more about that, though.'

'Do these raiders ever attack Shady Sands?' asked Natalia.

'Periodically,' Katrina replied, nodding. 'We grow our own food and raise our own livestock. The raiders don't have the ability or skills to do either, so they try to take it from us. Sometimes they succeed.'

'Wait a minute. Livestock?' Albert was incredulous.

Katrina nodded and her smile grew. 'You haven't seen the brahma yet,' she said as a matter of fact.

'Brahma?' Natalia choked back a laugh.

Katrina nodded again. 'That's what we call them. I think they're named after the American Brahman.'

'Cows?' Albert spluttered.

'Not just _any _cows,' said Katrina, clearly enjoying herself. 'You'll have to see it to believe it. Speaking of which…'

The smell of some kind of broth began wafting out of the kitchen to their nostrils, making their mouths water. Dinner finally arrived shortly after. Each of them got a bowl heaped with beef stew and an earthen cup of water to wash it down. A separate platter was set in the middle of the table with sliced pieces of a strange green fruit. To satisfy their curiosity, Katrina showed them one of the fruits before it had been cut. It was a large, roughly spherical (if rather warty) melon of some sort with two stalks protruding from the top. Katrina assured them it was edible.

As they ate, Katrina told them all she knew about her vault. She said she had been raised there for many years but the place had been overcrowded and the standard of living low. Eventually the vault had experienced a schism and many people had left, taking with them the best equipment. Some, including herself, had tried to stay in the vault despite the setbacks but all that had come to an end with the raider attacks.

After dinner they were escorted back to their house where the two guards took up their positions by the doorway. Natalia got the bed despite her protests, while the two men opened up their bedrolls on the floor.

The next morning they made their way to the dining hall for breakfast, realizing, as they did so, that every eye in the village, especially those of the children, were focused on them. Breakfast comprised of more of the strange fruit that might have, before their mutation, been some sort of guava. Katrina had returned to her post at the town entrance but the vault dwellers were soon joined by Aradesh.

'Katrina tells me you are looking for a water chip,' he said as they ate. 'Vault-15 did indeed have replacement chips, though there is no telling what the raiders took from the place when they attacked us.'

'I doubt they'd have much use for electronic equipment only usable by vault computers,' said Albert.

'For your sake, I hope you are right. But all this brings me to my next point. As you have no doubt heard, our last news coming from the vault was that the lights had failed, the emergency stairwells were blocked, and the elevators were not working. In addition, we were told that the main entrance was similarly blocked off by rubble. This means that, in order to get where you need to, you will need to find the secondary entrance, have the equipment to descend almost a hundred feet down the elevator shafts to the vault storage room, _and _have enough flares to make sure you don't get stuck down there in the pitch darkness. Further, you will probably also need to replenish your supplies to get there from Shady Sands. _And _you will probably also want to know the quickest way to get there since there are no main roads between Shady Sands the vault. 'All these things we can provide you, _if_ you do something for us, in turn.'

'If you believe that we come from a vault whose water chip has broken down, then you _know _that if we don't get a replacement, our people will die of thirst…' said Albert.

'My belief in your story is not complete,' Aradesh replied simply. 'You may be telling the truth or you may be lying. It matters not to me. What I am offering you is a simple exchange that will benefit both our parties: supplies and information for your services in a problem our town is facing. What you do with those supplies and information is entirely up to you.

The vault dwellers traded quick but hesitant glances with one another. Aradesh gave them a moment before continuing.

'You may have already learnt that our town has occasional run-ins with raiders. Well, they are not our only problems. In your journeys… have you come across any of the post-nuclear wildlife?'

'Giant rats,' said Natalia. 'On our first day, too.'

'Good. You are familiar with the effects of mutation, then. The problem we have had is with what we call radscorpions.'

'Giant… scorpions?' Natalia said weakly.

'The radscorpions have been after our brahma ever since we moved here. The attacks used to be isolated – just some lone radscorpion that happened to find its way to the brahma pens. In the past we have managed to chase them off, but lately they have been coming in packs and have started attacking my people. Not a week goes by now that someone doesn't get poisoned trying to keep them out of the pens.'

'What do you want us to do, exactly?' asked Albert skeptically.

'Our doctor, Razlo, has been trying to find a cure for their poison. If you can help him make a breakthrough with his search, I will make sure you have everything you need to fulfill your own mission.'

'Help him… find a cure,' said Natalia. 'What exactly does that entail? We're no doctors.'

'Razlo will have more information, and if you agree to help, you should speak to him.'

'May we speak to him first before deciding?' asked Albert.

'You may,' said Aradesh. 'I will be here for most of the day. If you cannot find me, ask Katrina. I give you free reign of the town, only know that if you refuse to help us, I will have to ask you to leave Shady Sands tonight. You must understand that we are in desperate need of help, and as the town elder, it is my responsibility to do everything in my power to try to attain that help.'

* * *

><p>After leaving the town hall, the three decided that, while they would eventually have to make a decision, there was no immediate rush. Albert took it upon himself to have a chat with Razlo. Natalia would speak to Ian. Stone's task was simply to get a better feel for the town and how its people lived their lives in a post-nuclear world. It was information the residents of Vault-13 would have to know eventually if they wanted to follow suit.<p>

With some directions from the people of Shady Sands, Albert located the doctor's house. It was about the same size as their guesthouse and with the same kind of furniture. Razlo was in the bedroom when Albert arrived and his wife showed Albert to a seat to wait.

Through the curtains, Albert saw the doctor treating a pale, wiry young man lying on a makeshift on the floor. The man was sweating profusely and ever now and then a groan would escape his lips. Razlo's wife went about her own business, pounding away at some herbs in a bowl and doing a good job at ignoring Albert's presence.

When the doctor finally emerged, he gave Albert a quick look over before joining Albert at the table. He was dressed like any other townsperson and, if not for the fact that he had just spent at least fifteen minutes on his groaning patient, Albert would never have guessed he had any kind of medical expertise.

'You're one of the newcomers,' Razlo said matter-of-factly. Albert nodded. 'Can I help you with anything?'

'Aradesh has informed us of the radscorpion problem you're having and offered to help us in our own journey east if we agreed to assist you.'

'How much do you know about radscorpions?' the doctor asked.

'Not a thing. How much do _you _know?'

'Not too much myself. They do seem to be extremely large versions of the north American Emperor scorpion, though.'

'How large are we talking here?'

'Seven, eight feet. And that's excluding the stinger.'

Albert gulped inwardly and tried not to go bug-eyed. 'But if they're that big, that should mean they're poison would be virtually non-existent, doesn't it?'

Razlo shook his head. 'You'd think that. But contrary to my and apparently your medical knowledge, their poison has grown more potent, not diluted, as I would expect. Until recently, Seth and his brother were trying to hunt some of them down to help some of my tests.'

'What happened?'

Razlo made a gesture with his head at his patient in the other room.

'That man over there whom you probably heard is called Jarvis, Seth's younger brother. He got injured a couple of days ago. The radscorpion venom's in his system now and he's not taking it well. Probably an allergic reaction.'

'When we left our vault, we encountered some rats that were also far larger than any normal rats should be. Are all these really… products of radiation?'

Razlo shrugged.

'It sure as hell isn't natural evolution,' he offered, 'but how such a thing can be possible even through radiation induced mutation is beyond me.'

Albert exhaled heavily. 'What is it that you need from these radscorpions for your tests?'

'If I could get a sample of their poison, especially the venom production sacs located in their tails, I believe I could create an anti-venom. Without the lethality of their stings, we wouldn't have to be so wary of them.'

'So basically… we're being asked to risk our lives so that no one else in the town has to.'

'No one has died from their stings, but a few have come quite close. The poison more or less disables you for at least a couple of days, judging from previous cases. And even _after _that, you'll need weeks to fully recover your strength. Only Seth and Jarvis were willing to try their luck after the first few victims. And if Jarvis doesn't make it… Seth may not ever want to go back and we would lose _all _our volunteers.'

Albert sighed again. 'So let's say we were to agree to help you. How would we even start?'

'Seth will probably know the best places to look. But I can tell you this. The radscorpions seem to be sensitive to light. That means that they're nocturnal.'

'So we could simply wait until they attack the pens?'

'We've tried that, unfortunately. radscorpions are fast, which means that if they find themselves threatened beyond what they can manage, they'll flee, probably faster than you can follow. And good luck trying to chase after a black object in the middle of the night.'

'So we would have to go after them during the day.'s

'And there's the catch. During the day, they're not going to be wandering around looking for trouble. That will, in fact, be your job.'

* * *

><p>While Albert was busy talking to the doctor, Natalia found her way over to the guardhouse where Ian was staying. The building was about twice as large as the guesthouse but, in terms of configuration, it was the same. One partition functioned as a kitchen, dining room, and living room. The other was a large bedroom with four beds for the guards. There were only two guards resting within in the living room when she entered. They gave her brief looks but did not stop her. With the description Katrina had given her just before her visit to the guardhouse, Natalia pushed apart the curtain to the bedroom and walked in, hoping the find the man called Ian. The place was empty except for a single man sitting on one of the wooden chairs, his legs raised, boots resting on the foot of the nearest bed. He fit Katrina's description perfectly: short and stocky with long brown hair (longer than Natalia's); unkempt beard and moustache; well-built. Besides his boots, he was dressed in blue jeans and a faded and worn out wife beater. To Natalia, he seemed to have the confident, relaxed demeanor of someone who knew the dangers of the world and yet remained unperturbed by it.<p>

He gave a small smile on noticing her entry and got up. He was around the same height as her.

'Hello, stranger,' he said. 'You look like you're new here.'

'I'm Natalia,' she said, shaking his hand.

'Good to meet you. I'm Ian.'

'Katrina says you're the person to talk to if I wanted to learn more about the outside world.'

'She wasn't mistaken. I'm the only person here who's ever really left town. Blame that more on the raiders and radscorpions that keep the townspeople close to home more than anything else, though.'

'Could you tell me more about them? Aradesh has tried to recruit us to help out with the radscorpion problem. Knowing the dangers they pose would certainly help us make a decision.'

'You haven't heard of radscorpions _or _raiders? Where have you been all your life?'

'In a cave.'

'Ah, one of those vault people then. Have you seen the rest of Shady Sands?' Natalia shook her head. 'Give me a moment to change my bandages. Then I'll show you the town and explain everything you need to know.'

As Natalia waited, Ian proceeded to change his dressings. Either entirely unconscious or conscious _and_ deliberate about it, Ian pulled of his vest, revealing not only some stained white bandages taped around the left side of his midsection, but also the rippling muscles of his upper body. Natalia instinctively looked away, trying not to show her embarrassment at his disregard for what she considered standard norms of modesty.

'Haven't you ever seen a half-naked man before?' she heard him saying. She looked up to find that he had noticed her averting her gaze. He began disinfecting a half-healed wound on his torso with a clean cloth and a bottle of alcohol.

'I…' she found she didn't know how to answer.

'Never had sex either, then.'

Natalia was silent, realizing that her face was growing redder by the second.

'That's okay. I'm not judging you for it,' he said as he taped a fresh bandage over his wound. 'Stick around in the wasteland long enough and you'll get plenty of both, I guarantee it. All the pre-war notions you vault dwellers still hold so dear will fly out the window in a second.'

'How did you get injured?' she asked, desperate to change the question.

'Well, I used to be a guard for the merchants of the Hub,' he said as if she had heard of the place countless times before. 'But I was shot during a raid by bandits a couple of weeks ago.'

'Sorry to hear that,' Natalia said.

'Thanks. It's been healing up well, thanks to Razlo.' He finished with his dressing and got dressed again, pulling on a black leather jacket over his white vest. 'Shall we?' He led the way out of the guardhouse.

'I can't tell you too much about the radscorpions,' he said as they walked out of the main entrance to town and headed southwest along the runway to where she could see small plots of farmland being tended to by some of the townspeople. 'They don't appear so much in the south, so the only encounters I've had with them have mostly been while I was recuperating here. All I can say is they're huge, have poisonous stingers in their tails, and are very quick. _And _their carapaces are extremely tough. If you're going to try your hand at hunting them, make sure you have some APs.'

'APs. What are those?'

'Do you have a gun?'

'I left it in the guesthouse.'

Ian shook his head disapprovingly.

'Never ever leave your house unarmed,' he said. 'As long as you're in the wasteland, you _always _need to be able to defend yourself. The wasteland is an unpredictable place. Scorpions and raiders aren't the only hostile beings you're likely to meet. What kind of a gun is it?'

Natalia's mind zipped back to her one reading of the Guns and Bullets magazine she and Albert had looked at just after exiting Vault-13.

'It's a Colt 6520 10mm,' she said almost automatically. 'Like yours,' she added, indicating the firearm he had holstered at his side. Ian nodded.

'Good,' he said. 'Always know your weapons. Know what ammo goes with what gun. Know how to maintain each weapon. Know how to troubleshoot weapon jams and other technical problems.' He fished into one of his jacket pockets and pulled out a clip of 10mm bullets. 'The ones you have in your Colt are probably standard JHP – jacketed hollow-points. Those are designed to expand to as large a size as possible to translate the most energy to the target. Unfortunately that makes them almost useless against anyone, or anything, with some kind of armor. Most of the energy would just splatter against the armor plates and would have little effect on the target. What I have in this clip are AP, armor-piercing, rounds. These ones won't expand at all, but they have excellent penetration. If you're going up against the scorpions, you'll want these in your chamber.'

Ian handed her the clip which she pocketed gratefully. 'Anything else about radscorpions you'll have to learn from Razlo.'

They arrived at the agricultural fields – what Ian called 'the Gardens' – and they stopped for Natalia to take a closer look at the agricultural work. It appeared that two kinds of vegetables dominated the fields. The first was a kind of mutated, pale-green cabbage, the second were yellow-green cornstalks. Judging by the look, both seemed to be thriving in the warm weather.

'They seem to have all their fields planted,' Natalia observed.

'What of it?' Ian asked.

'They could probably do better with crop rotation.'

'What's that?'

'You only plant some of the fields, allowing the others to get back some of the nutrients that the plants used up. You let the other fields become fertile again by just tilling up whatever grows there.'

'Huh,' said Ian, impressed. 'Were you a farmer in a previous life?'

'Just one of the few things I actually learnt while I was in the Vault,' Natalia replied.

'Well, it makes sense to me. You should let Aradesh know.'

As Ian was speaking, Natalia chose that moment to walk off through the fields. Taken by surprise, Ian broke into a small jog to catch up with her. Then he saw what had caught her attention. Located in the middle of the fields was the town well, operated by a rudimentary but functional bucket and pulley system. Natalia peered down into its depths.

'Is this where all the water for the town comes from?' she asked.

'It's enough to provide the town's needs,' said Ian. 'Why do you ask?'

'The reason my friends and I are out here in the wasteland is that our vault's water purification computer chip has malfunctioned. We were sent out to look for another one in Vault-15, though I hear that that search won't be as straightforward as we were originally led to believe.'

'You're looking for alternative water supplies.'

'I _was_. But what you have here is too little to supply an entire vault.'

'Not to mention you'd have to organize and coordinate frequent water caravans between your vault and Shady Sands.'

'That was part of the purpose. Our overseer… he's not particularly keen on interacting with the world outside our vault. If we could get the vault involved in necessary and regular trading with other communities out here, it might help him see that there's some good to the outside world after all… but all this is moot, I guess.'

'Well, _we _may not have enough water to do that. But there are a bunch of merchants down south in the Hub who deal almost _exclusively _in water. If you don't find what you seek in Vault-15, that might be a second option, if only to give your vault more time.'

'You mentioned this "Hub" earlier. Is it another town like Shady Sands?'

'Much larger. The Hub is basically a big trading center far south of here. It's run by several caravan groups of merchants: the Water Merchants, the Crimson Caravan, and the Far Go Traders. But it's a long walk from here. If you stick to the main roads, which is usually advisable if you want to avoid facing off with the hostile wildlife, it could take you almost eleven days from here. Most people break the journey into two parts by stopping over at Junktown which is more or less on the way. Junktown's smaller, but still a good place to drop in for a drink. It's overseen by a fellow by the name of Killian Darkwater, the local shopkeeper, sheriff, and mayor.'

Natalia pulled up her map of the west coast and had Ian point out the locations of the other two towns.

'Y'know,' she said, storing the information on the mini-computer, 'with all these dangers we may be facing, it could help to have someone like you with us. Your experience would be invaluable.' She cast him a sideways glance. His look said it all but she let him speak his peace.

'That sounds like quite an offer,' he said, 'but I do owe the people here something since they helped me recover. My knowledge of the outside world and my experience make me useful _here _just as much as it does out in the wasteland. Besides, they keep me well fed. Before this, I had to risk my life in order to earn enough to put bread on the table, so to speak.'

'You know what that sounds like to me?' she asked rhetorically. 'It sounds like you've gotten soft.' Ian registered surprise on his face for the first time. He looked up at her to find her smirking. He smiled back.

'You're very perceptive,' he said. 'Too perceptive, even.'

'You just don't seem like the kind of person who would be happy guarding a small and remote town far away from the hustle and bustle of the main trade routes for the rest of your life. Let me put it this way. I don't know what the future holds in store for us vault dwellers. If we find the chip at Vault-15, we'll go home to our own vault, at least for a time and that will be the end of that. If so, you can just as easily return here. But at least you'll have new stories to add to your collection. I mean, how many people have you met who can say they climbed down into the depths of the dark remnants of an aged vault? We could really use your experience and guidance, Ian. Just give it a thought. We have until evening anyway before we even have to make a decision about your radscorpion problem.'

* * *

><p>Stone had been drawn to the pens north of town, most particularly by a rather intense smell that wasn't entirely unpleasant but was, at first, rather overpowering. The villagers tending to the animals within stared at him, clearly daunted by his size, but they did not stop him or talk to him.<p>

He had observed the animals within the pens for almost an hour now. They were the strangest creatures he had ever seen. For the most part, they resembled gangly brown cows… in all respects except for the rather alarming fact that they each had two pairs of heads. And yet not one of the townspeople – working at the pens, milking the animals', cleaning up dung, or shepherding herds of the beasts to areas where they could feed on dry desert scrub – seemed the slightest bit perturbed.

The two-headed cows were the only thing to have caught his interest so far. Everything else in the town just seemed so… boring. These cows, on the other hand… Even when the novelty of the sight had dissipated, it was still interesting to see them mate. A few of the pens were being used specifically for breeding purposes and were the primary source of the strong smell that had drawn him there in the first place. Watching four heads engaged in primal animal sex was something he had never seen before, not in documentaries in the vault, and not in the old pornographic video clips that some of his friends in the vault had in their possessions... Well, that wasn't entirely correct. There _were_ videos involving more than two sexual partners, just never more than two heads on two bodies.

'Hi!' he heard someone call from behind him. It was a very pleasant sounding voice. He looked up from his seat on the dusty ground to see a pretty young woman with frazzled black hair looking down at him. In height and skin tone, she resembled the town leader, Aradesh. 'I heard there were travelers in town, but I was kinda skeptical until I saw you,' she said as he got up to greet her. 'My name's Tandi.'

'My name is Stone,' he said, offering his huge paw to her. Despite their difference in girth, she was almost the same height – an amazing feat considering that, until Aradesh, he had never met anyone who measured up to him vertically. She shook his hand.

'Well… how do you like our little town?' she asked with an almost apologetic tone to her voice. 'Bored yet?'

'Well…' he started, mimicking her opening. He paused, remembering his parents' advise to never be rude. But then he concluded that this wasn't being rude. This was being honest. 'There don't seem to be nothin' to do here but watch the brahma mate,' he finished tentatively. To his surprise, her smile turned into a huge grin.

'_Finally_!' she said as if her prayers had just been answered. 'Someone else who sees! Of course, you've probably been everywhere, so this must be hell for you.'

Stone remembered a second lesson his parents had taught him. Never lie. But they had never said anything about withholding the truth. So he decided not to correct her assumption.

'You don't like it here?' he asked instead.

'It's okay, I guess,' she said, giving a disinterested shrug. 'I mean, it _is_ home and all. But it's so boring! Y'know, I want to see the world.'

'If you're so bored, why don't you leave?' he said simply.

'Me, leave?' she said, then sighed. 'I wish. I don't know enough to leave alone and no one else wants to go. And worst of all, my father says he'd have a heart attack if something happened to me!'

'Tough situation,' said Stone in an attempt to sympathize with her plight.

'You're telling me,' she said.

'So _is _watching brahma mating rituals the only thing to do around her?' he asked.

'Well…' she said again. Her face broke into a conspiratorial grin. 'We've got radscorpions!' She immediately corrected her enthusiasm right after the outburst. 'I mean, I know it's not a good thing, but no one's died from the stings. And it's the closest thing to excitement we've got here.'

'Your father… his name is Aradesh?' Stone asked. Tandi nodded. 'He's trying to get us to help your town out with the radscorpion problem.'

Tandi gasped and very nearly clapped her hands together in excitement. 'That's so awesome!' she squealed. 'Will you do it?'

'I dunno. It all depends on my other two friends. They make most of the decisions in the group.'

'Aw, what can a couple of radscorpions do to someone like you?' she said, giving his shoulder a friendly punch. Then her mouth turned into a half-frown. 'I hope my father's going to compensate you for your troubles, though.'

Stone nodded. 'He's offered to provide us with the supplies and information we need to get to Vault-15.'

Tandi's grew even more excited, if that were even possible. 'Tell me more!' she nearly shouted.

* * *

><p>When the group gathered for lunch, they had a brief discussion about their findings. As usual, Albert and Natalia dominated the conversation. It was clear that the radscorpions were dangerous and that, contrary to what Aradesh presumed to think, they were way in over their heads. However, it also became clear that their existing supplies were limited and that if Vault-15 were truly in as much disrepair as the townspeople made it sound, they were not going to have enough food or water to make it back to Vault-13. Their wilderness survival skills were minimal and, at best, theoretical. They quickly realized that their options were, for all intents and purposes, non-existent.<p>

Albert shared with the group that, on Razlo's recommendation, he had spoken to Seth, the leader of the guards, who claimed to know where the radscorpions were coming from. He had said that if they were willing to help, he could take them to the caves where he believed the scorpions were emerging from, but that he himself would not be able to join them due to his guard duties. Albert guessed that was only partly true and that the man was actually scared of going back out there after what had happened to his brother. But then again, judging from the descriptions of the creatures, Albert didn't blame him.

Their decision made, the team informed Aradesh of their plans and that they would start looking for the scorpions the next day. Aradesh agreed to this and was more than willing to provide them with both board and lodging now that he had been assured of their decision to help.

They spent a part of the rest of the day discussing their plans. The intended course of action was to begin their search at first light, locate the first scorpion, put it out of commission with the help of Natalia's AP rounds, cut off its tail and stinger, and then get the hell out of there before any other scorpions arrived. That plan changed slightly, however, with the coming of the afternoon, when a merchant and his wagon, pulled by two brahma, arrived in town, escorted by four armed guards. Before then, Albert and Natalia had already gotten their first glimpse of the two-headed mutated cows but they still could do little to hide their bewilderment at how such a mutation could be possible.

As the merchant displayed his wares to the townspeople – little trinkets and toys for the children, agricultural and domestic equipment for the townspeople, and weapons for the guards – Albert walked up to one of the tables the townspeople had set up for the exchange of goods and pointed at one particular object. It was a stack of dynamite – four red sticks each comprised of a mixture of nitroglycerin and kiselguhr, wired to a timer.

'Is that for the vault?' Natalia asked, immediately picking up on Albert's purpose.

'If there's rubble in the stairwell, we may be able to clear a path with the dynamite. That would save us the rather dangerous alternative of climbing down an elevator shaft on a piece of rope.' He turned to the merchant. 'What do you want for this?'

'Five hundred caps,' said the man, assuming Albert knew what he was talking about.

Albert paused to recollect himself. Then he told Stone to bring their packs from the guesthouse. 'I have an alternative,' he told the merchant, avoiding the whole issue with the "caps". He knew that in any barter, you had to present yourself as someone who knew what you were doing. Otherwise, the other party would take every opportunity to exploit your lack of familiarity with the process and/or goods involved.

'I have here,' said Albert, once Stone had returned, 'an issue of Guns and Bullets that actually covers the basics of handgun maintenance and operation.'

The merchant's eyes glinted and Albert knew he had him. He allowed the merchant to flip through the issue.

'This _is _a rare find,' the merchant admitted, dropping his trader façade. 'I tell you, most people out here don't know shit about firing a pistol. This will sell.' Then he looked back up at Albert, realizing he had let his guard down. 'But it's not enough for the dynamite. What else do you have?'

'That issue was hard to come by,' Albert retorted. 'If it was any other, I'd have readily supplemented it with something else. But you won't find one like this out here. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime find. If you don't take this now, you may never get another chance. I could probably ask for almost twice our current bargaining value if I took a short journey down over to Junktown or the Hub. I bet Killian would pay good money for this.'

'Okay, okay,' the merchant cut in. 'Deal.'

'_And _two bottles of that pre-War Jack Daniels you have over there.'

'Wh—' the merchant protested. But when he realized Albert was adamant, he reluctantly gave in.

When the trade was done, Albert walked over to Katrina who had been watching the exchange with some amusement.

'Okay, so what the hell are caps?' he asked, allowing her a laugh at his expense.

'Bottle caps,' she said as if it was a simple fact. At Albert's look of unconcealed surprise, she burst into a good-natured laugh. 'Bottle caps are the only common money found out here,' she explained, aggravating Albert's bewilderment.

'How did something like _that_ happen?' he asked.

'Beats me,' she shrugged, 'but what matters is that they're backed by the merchants of the Hub, so you can basically trade them anywhere. Or at least, anywhere on the west coast.'

Albert returned to the other two vault dwellers with yet another surprise of the wasteland to tell them.

'Now I wish we actually had some of those pre-War vending machines back in Vault-13,' he said. 'Who would've thought…'

* * *

><p>The next morning, just before sunrise, the three vault dwellers gathered at the entrance to Shady Sands. Seth emerged from the guardhouse shortly, armed with his hunting rifle. As they prepared to leave, however, one more person emerged from the guardhouse.<p>

'Ian?' said Natalia, surprised at his arrival.

'I've decided to take you up on your offer,' he said.

'But I meant… to Vault-15.'

'_Someone's _gotta pull your ass out when it lands in the fire. And if I know anything about this wasteland, that's bound to happen to anyone going into the den of a wild animal.'

Albert walked over and greeted the former caravan guard and welcomed him on board.

'I do have one condition though,' Ian added.

'What would that be?' asked Natalia.

'Whatever you get out of your travels, even if it's just to Vault-15 and back, I get one quarter of the spoils.'

'If there are _any _spoils, you'll be more than welcome to that share,' Albert affirmed. 'Our condition is that it can't be electronic parts specific to vault systems.'

'Agreed,' Ian replied. 'I'd have no use for them anyway.'

With that, the group of five headed northeast across open country to a looming mountain in the distance. The land was even and the progress quick but as they neared, Seth began to move more warily. By the time they were amongst the hills and rocky crags, they were moving slow enough to hear a whisper. Finally, after a few more minutes, Seth stopped and lit a flare.

'Remember, they hate light, but that's not going to stop them sticking you with their stingers if they can help it,' said Seth. He pointed to a ravine between two rocky outcroppings at the base of the mountain. 'Follow that path and it'll take you to the cave. But be quick. There are more in there than the four of you can hope to handle on your own.'

With that, Seth took his leave.

The remaining four of them followed Seth's directions, Ian and Albert taking the front. The night was quiet, not even the sound of insects in the air, and their footfalls were uncomfortably loud even though they were practically tiptoeing.

They navigated the ravine for a few minutes, their eyes and ears peeled for the slightest movement up ahead. Finally, without any incident, the ravine opened abruptly into a small clearing. And at the end of the clearing, staring silently back at them, stood the entrance to the cave, its mouth beckoning them deeper into the lair of the radscorpions.


	5. Chapter 4: Radscorpions

Many thanks to my small but consistent group of readers/reviewers. Apologies for the long wait. These last 3 weeks have been crazy busy and I'm starting to suspect that it's not going to get any better. Anyway, here it is. I think I'll have to admit that writing action is not my forte, but I hope it's at least workable.

**Chapter Four: Radscorpions**

Entering the cave reminded the vault dwellers of the one they had left behind only days ago. Albert, the most well-read of the lot, couldn't help but note the symbolism of the whole thing. The parallels were there. They had left a home populated by their friends and family by passing through a cave; now they were entering a cavernous home that was not their own, populated by dangerous and hostile creatures. Marking their exit of Vault-13 had been the bones of what had seemed to be some sort of horned kangaroo; here too the body of a dead animal marked the cavern entrance, only this time it was a much grimmer one – the half eaten, only partially decomposed, two-headed corpse of a brahmin, likely one that had belonged to the people of Shady Sands'. The cave passage leading out of Vault-13 had also been like a rite of passage – a birth into a new world. Albert only hoped this one was not going to be the diametric opposite to that first rite.

Before leaving Shady Sands, Ian had distributed what AP ammunition he had with Stone and Albert. That meant that, aside from the magazine he had handed Natalia earlier, each of the men had had just four AP rounds in his twelve-round clip.

'Make every one of those first four count,' Ian had told them earlier.

Now, Ian took the lead with Stone, since both of them were the most proficient in using firearms, leaving Natalia and Albert to provide illumination with the flares.

The initial passage into the caves were narrow, probably just enough for a full-sized radscorpion to fit through. The group moved forward slowly, Natalia and Albert lifting their flares as high as possible to cast their glow over Ian and Stone's heads. The path ahead was fairly straight and it took them a full three minutes before they eventually came to a split in the tunnel.

'Breadcrumbs anyone?' Natalia said.

'Hopefully it won't come to that,' said Ian. 'We'll think of something if we come across more than just this one intersection.'

'I hope you're not going to suggest that we split up,' said Natalia. He shook his head.

'With radscorpions, you want to make sure you can focus your fire and put each one down as quickly as possible, especially if you're facing more than one at a time. Just remember, aim for the head. It'll still be armored but at least if you can punch through, it should stop it cold… theoretically.'

'Wonderful,' said Albert. 'I vote for the right passage first.'

Either path seemed equally viable and, with their plan set, the group set off down the right-hand tunnel. After a few minutes, the tunnel began to widen and they found themselves in a long and wide cavern – so long and wide in fact that the light of their flares could not illuminate the end of it. Hundreds of rocks of varying sizes littered the ground, sometimes reaching all the way to the cavern roof. In certain areas, they were so densely packed that the group had a hard time navigating their way through the rubble. Moving clumsily forward, they came to a small clearing where the cavern floor evened out a little. Piles of bones littered the ground. It was clear that what they were looking for couldn't be far off.

'I don't like this,' said Albert. 'All these piles of rocks… we could walk right past a radscorpion and we wouldn't even know it until it attacked us from behind.'

'This space is open enough,' said Ian in response. 'If we can lure one of them here, we should have enough maneuverability to take it out.'

No sooner had he spoken those words than he abruptly stiffened, his ears alerting him to a foreign noise. He raised a hand to silence the others preemptively. Albert and Natalia held their flares up, glancing all around for potential threats. Ian and Stone gripped their guns tightly in both hands. All four had their ears peeled.

At first, it seemed like it might just have been Ian's imagination. But then, in the silence, a single stone clattered down the nearest large pile of rocks and landed at their feet. Pulses racing at the thought that they had somehow just been outsmarted, they each raised their eyes.

Perched at the very top of the pile of rocks was the largest creature any one of them had ever seen. Razlo had been right. The black arthropod was easily eight feet long, each of its pincers as big as a human head. Curved up over its back was its tail ending in a cruel-looking six-inch-long stinger. The creature stared at them with its multiple unblinking eyes as it watched them from its perch, unmoving and vigilant like some kind of cavern sentry.

Natalia opened her mouth, not sure whether to scream or just stare and gape. Ian cast a quick glance over to Albert who, despite his shock, got Ian's silent message and kept his flare held aloft, both to provide clear illumination as well as (hopefully) to keep the creature from attacking, given its sensitivity to light. Both Ian and Stone slowly raised and aimed their guns.

Suddenly, there came a light but ominous clacking on the stones littering the floor behind them. Natalia's own flare flashed as she turned suddenly away from the scorpion to something behind her.

Not ten feet away, emerging from behind another pile of rocks came another radscorpion, smaller than the first but still at least six feet in length, its stinger poised three feet high in the air. And it was running.

Natalia was closest to it but her reflexes were also the fastest. Despite her initial shock, she recovered quickly and hurled herself to the side as the smaller radscorpion closed the gap in a second. Its tailed whipped forward, the stinger striking the air where she had been standing just moments ago. Ian and Stone both turned and fired several rounds in rapid succession. The AP rounds peppered the head and carapace of the scorpion as it attempted to home in on Natalia's new position. Two bullets went straight into its brain and the scorpion went suddenly limp, its legs crumpling underneath its massive bulk.

But while Stone and Ian were preoccupied, the first radscorpion took the opportunity to attack. Albert was the only one who had not totally turned his attention to the new scorpion. As the radscorpion raced down its throne of stones towards Stone's back, Albert, almost instinctively, hurled his flare directly at the scorpion's head.

As if it had suddenly been scalded, the scorpion recoiled sharply away from the flare. With both his hands now free to aim his gun, Albert fired two rounds at the temporarily stunned scorpion. The first round smashed into two of the scorpion's eyes, eliciting from the creature what sounded like a strange, high-pitched, stridulating scream. The second missed, gouging a hole into one of the nearby rocks.

The injured radscorpion was not to be deterred, however. It sidestepped the flare, and then charged, this time at its new attacker. Adrenaline pumping furiously through his veins, Albert twisted his body as the stinger whizzed past his face, the scorpion's tail projecting its poisoned weapon as far forward as it could go. The stinger passed so close to Albert's head that the bulkier length of the tail struck him across the cheek, knocking him off his feet.

Albert hit the ground, his lower back smashing painfully against one of the rocks littering the cavern floor. As the scorpion pulled back to prepare for another strike, Ian and Stone turned to bear their weapons on this remaining threat. Natalia, who had by then regained her balance completely, raised a gun for the first time in her life and fired. The first bullet tore a piece of carapace from the top of the radscorpion's head, but she had underestimated the strength of the recoil and her remaining three shots missed their mark.

Before Ian and Stone could fire, the radscorpion attacked again, its stinger aimed straight for Albert's face. Again, Albert twisted away from the attack and, again, was saved by mere inches as the stinger dug a hole into the cavern floor before his eyes. Fortunately by this time, Ian and Stone had gotten a good bearing on the radscorpion and each put three rounds into the creature's head. The last of their AP rounds did their work, each one creating a 10mm hole in the radscorpion's head. The JHP rounds were less effective but still managed to compound the damage. The scorpion tottered a little, its legs folding as it collapsed under its own weight.

The last echoes of the gunshots faded into silence.

The vault dwellers were frozen, unable to believe just how fast things had spun out of control and how equally fast they had ended. Amazingly, none of them had suffered any injury worse than a few bruises.

'Get the other stinger,' Ian said to Albert and Stone, decisively snapping them all out of their collective daze. 'Natalia, go back down the passageway and alert us if more are on their way. If there are anymore nearby, they'll surely have picked up on that racket we just created.'

As Natalia returned down the way they had come, Ian worked on the larger scorpion's stinger with his knife, using his boot to brace the tail as he sawed away at one of the tail joints a couple of inches from where the stinger began. Albert and Stone handled the other, Stone gripping the tail and Albert using his Vault-Tec knife to extricate the stinger.

Cutting through the tail was as hard as it looked and it took what seemed like a ridiculous amount of sawing in order to cut the stinger loose. Albert and Stone had just succeeded in getting their stinger free and stowed in the drawstring sack they had brought for just such a purpose when gunshots suddenly echoed down from the tunnel behind them.

'Damn! That was too soon,' Ian swore. No longer concerned about noise, he stuck his pistol into the tear in the tail he had made with his knife and fired three rounds into the cut. With one final yank, he finally dislodged the stinger and tossed it over to Stone who was carrying the sack with the other one already inside it.

'Let's go!' he shouted, lighting his own flare and elading the race back to the intersection. By the light of both Ian's flare and Albert's recovered one, they ran back to the entrance, hoping to make it all the way back to the intersection before they were cut off. But they had barely covered thirty feet when Natalia came bursting into the cavern from the tunnel beyond. Her flare was gone.

'Back! Back!' she yelled at them, turning quickly to fire two rounds off into the darkness. By the time they had realized what was happening, she was already loping past them as fast as the terrain allowed. From the entrance behind her, four radscorpions piled into the cave. And by the sound of it, more were coming.

Without enough AP rounds to warrant a shootout, Ian and the two other vault dwellers turned tail and followed Natalia's flight. Running back the way they had come, they passed through the clearing with the two stingerless scorpion corpses and into the second half of the cavern that they had yet to explore.

'Is there any other way out?' Natalia shouted as Ian caught up with her.

'No idea!' came Ian's terse reply.

Albert, who was taking up the rear of the group, turned as he ran and blanched at the sight of not four but now seven radscorpions fanned out behind them and catching up quickly. The rocky ground seemed not to slow them down one bit.

'There!' everyone heard Natalia shout suddenly. In the light of her newly lit flare, a rock-strewn path could be seen leading down from this half of the cavern. The path made a sharp u-turn on the left, descending as it did so to a lower level.

With no other alternative in sight, Natalia led the way down, hopping from stone to stone till she reached the bottom. The footing was tricky on the downward path, however, and as the other three men struggled to keep up with Natalia's far more dexterous negotiation of the rocky slope, Stone slipped and tumbled, dislodging a couple of smaller stones and bruising himself in more than one place in the process. His momentum took him the rest of the way down the slope, but his fall had cost them precious time. Behind them, the sound of dozens of giant insect legs running rapidly over stone heightened the already high-strung situation.

Albert, who was closest, turned and helped Stone to his feet as Natalia and Ian fired a few carefully aimed shots to slow down the first radscorpion that had set foot on the top of the slope they had just descended. A few of the rounds hit their mark but were only enough to slow down the scorpion.

Three more had joined the first radscorpion by the time Stone had gotten back to his feet, and, with more scorpions on the way, the group resumed their flight, realizing, as they did so, that they now had no clue as to where they were headed.

This new lower path twisted around portions of the cavern walls and was frustratingly windy, but it was fortunately relatively clear of rocky debris and the four of them were able to put some space between them and the radscorpions in close pursuit behind them.

They followed this new twisting path for a full minute until, after turning a sudden corner in the path, they found themselves face-to-face with an unmovable wall of rock. For a few seconds, they could only stare ahead in despair and disbelief as the sound of the radscorpions catching up from behind grew painfully louder by the second.

Then Natalia's sharp eyes spotted a solution. Off to the left, a landslide of large rocks formed a steep path to the level above. It would be a difficult climb but if they could get past the first enormous boulder, they would be just about out of the reach of the incoming radscorpions.

Since she was closest, Natalia went first. Tossing her flare over to free up her hands, she then used her speed and momentum to run partially up the first boulder just far enough so that she could get a grip on its surface. Ian and Albert went second, Albert requiring a little help by Natalia and Ian to make the last part of the climb. Stone, unfortunately, could not quite manage the initial vertical run and by the time he had set himself up for a second attempt, the radscorpions had cleared the corner and were now racing towards him.

For the second time, Albert threw his flare at the radscorpions, causing them to break their attack for a moment. In the meantime, Stone made his last and final dash for the boulder. If this didn't work, he was going to be in a lot of trouble.

He managed the first step up and barely got his fingers over the top of the boulder on which the other three were already standing. Ian and Albert grabbed him before he could slide back down, each one taking grasp of one of his hands. Frantically, they pulled with all their strength before his momentum wore off and gravity regained its hold.

With mixed cries of frustration, exertion, and panic, they managed to get him up just as the closest radscorpion came close enough to attack, its stinger barely brushing the bottom of Stone's boot.

Ian and the vault dwellers stopped to catch their breath as the scorpion moved around the base of the boulder, trying in vain to get within reach of them. By then, two more scorpions had joined it but, for the time being, it seemed like the group was safe. The scorpions weren't large enough to climb the steep surface of the boulder and could only circle around its base.

But as more scorpions piled in, a new problem presented itself. In their instinctive attempts to get at the humans, the scorpions started climbing on top of one another.

Realizing their temporary reprieve was seconds away from ending, Ian and the rest hurriedly resumed their climb. Fortunately, the rest of the ascent wasn't as difficult and even Stone managed it without too much difficulty. By the time the first of the radscorpions had managed to get atop the first boulder, Ian and the vault dwellers had already reached the level above.

To their surprise, they found themselves right back where they had started – at the entrance to the large cavern where the radscorpions had first poured in. Apparently, in descending to the lower level, they had simply circled one big round back to the beginning. And, fortunately for them, all the scorpions in the vicinity were behind them. The nearest one was rapidly ascending the steep path at their backs but the way ahead of them was clear, at least for the moment.

Without any further hesitation, Ian and the vault dwellers retraced their steps. Encountering no other radscorpions except the ones behind them, they raced back to the intersection and took a left to get them back to the exit of the radscorpion lair. From behind, the ever-present sound of insect feet scrabbling over the stony floor drove them on; apparently, at least a few of the scorpions had made it back to the top and were resuming the chase.

As the group returned to the narrow part of the tunnels, Albert stopped in mid-flight, lit his last flare, and then started fishing around the back of his utility belt for something. Natalia, who was just ahead, turned to find him lagging far behind.

'What are you doing?' she yelled, racing back to his side.

'If they're as tenacious as they seem, sunlight's only going to slow them down,' said Albert as he retrieved what Natalia now recognized as the four sticks of dynamite from his belt. 'We need to block them off,' he said as he twisted the fuses together. Although his hands were calm and precise, the sweat on his forehead betrayed his anxiety. The rapidly nearing sound of the radscorpions didn't help matters.

Albert had only just started working on the timer when Natalia shouted a warning. One hand holding her flare, she used her free hand to fire the remaining rounds from her Colt at the first radscorpion that was now racing down the narrow tunnel towards them. This time, she was expecting the actual magnitude of the recoil and managed to put several rounds into the scorpion's head and body. The radscorpion crashed to the ground as the AP rounds punched several holes into its brain matter. Natalia had bought them a few seconds, but it was quickly running out.

'Come _onnnnn_…' she sang through gritted teeth as Albert looked around for a good place to set the explosives.

'What I wouldn't give for some duct tape right about now,' he muttered, casting his eyes around frantically.

'Just drop it and let's go!' she yelled.

'This has to work or we're all going to be screwed anyway,' said Albert.

'Yeah? Well we're dead if we stay here any longer!' Natalia retorted, punctuating her statement with the last of her rounds as another scorpion emerged from deeper down the tunnels. Natalia's gun clicked empty just as Albert finally managed to find a small nook in the cavern wall – some kind of enlarged crack that was just large enough for him to fit the dynamite.

By then, the second radscorpion, only maimed by Natalia's last shots, had reached striking distance. Following Albert's earlier example, Natalia threw her last flare at its head, causing it to pause in midstride and granting them the precious two seconds they needed to flee. Scooping up his own flare, Albert led the final flight from the caves.

In its injured state, the scorpion couldn't outpace them and the two vault dwellers ran the rest of the way without incident. After a thirty second sprint, they burst from the cavern mouth into the blinding morning light, mere seconds ahead of the scorpion coming up behind them. As the radscorpion emerged, temporarily blinded by the sunlight, Ian and Stone, who had been waiting by the entrance, unloaded the remainder of their pistols into the creature's head. The JHP rounds were only partially effective but the sheer volume of their firepower finally put the scorpion to rest.

'We need to move,' Albert warned Ian and Stone even as he gasped for breath from that last sprint. At the added word 'dynamite', the other two men's eyes widened and they moved to action. Ian grabbing a hold of Natalia and Stone helping Albert, the four of them put on a final burst of speed as they tried to create as much distance as possible between themselves and the cavern mouth before the explosion went off.

From behind them, two other radscorpions had just cleared the cavern entrance when the explosives detonated. In a muffled but still very loud explosion, the section of the tunnel collapsed. A cloud of dust and rocky shrapnel burst out the cavern mouth, its impact catching the two scorpions in its path.

It took a few seconds but once the sounds of the settling rubble had died down, Ian and the vault dwellers reloaded their weapons and returned to the remains of the cavern mouth, listening intently for any sounds of movement as they waited for the dust to settle.

With the air gradually clearing, they saw at the entrance two more radscorpion corpses added to the one they had already killed. Just inside of the mouth of the radscorpion lair, the tunnel had collapsed – a pile of rubble so big that there was no way any more radscorpions would be emerging.

'That was a good call,' said Ian to Albert as they all admired the dynamite's handiwork. 'You may just have solved the radscorpion problem permanently. Makes me wonder why no one else ever came up with that idea.'

'I didn't even think of it that way when I brought the thing along,' Albert admitted. 'I had just thought it would come in handy in a pinch.'

'It sure did,' Stone commented.

'Sometimes the best outcomes come from minimal planning,' Ian said.

'Weren't you planning to use it in Vault-15?' Natalia asked Albert.

'I guess we'll just have to get the grateful residents of Shady Sands to buy us more,' Albert replied. 'I'm all out of expensive bathroom reading material to trade with.'


	6. Chapter 5: Vault 15

Okay. Here it is. Quite a bit longer than I expected it to be. Hope you enjoy it. Next chapter: The Khans.

There's a real possibility that I may have to bump up the rating for the next chapter because I'm trying to puzzle over how to link together my attempted realist approach with what's in the Fallout canon concerning the Khans. And I may have to deal with some mature issues in order to do that. For my readers and reviewers, what do you think? Should I refrain from going into the big M? Any thoughts would be invaluable at this point.

**Chapter Five: Vault-15**

News of the vault dwellers' successes in the radscorpion caves, attested by Ian, spread like wildfire through Shady Sands and not only did Aradesh agree to supply them with everything they would need for their journey to Vault-15, but his entire demeanor towards them seemed to change. No longer was he the guarded and suspicious leader of his flock. Or perhaps he still was, but he had effectively extended membership to all three of the vault dwellers. In recognition of their contributions, particularly the complete destruction of what was possibly the only entryway to the radscorpion caves, Aradesh decided to hold a village feast in celebration. The good news was compounded at the end of the day by Razlo's official declaration that he had managed to create a cure for the radscorpion venom. And, thanks to the provision of not one but five venom sacs in the radscorpion stingers the vault dwellers had supplied him, he had been able to perform additional tests to conclude that the cure could also double-function as a general anti-venom.

Over a dining table laden with roasted Brahmin meat, more of that mutated green fruit, bottles of home-brewed beer, and (something new) cooked iguanas roasted in their own skins and skewered on cooking sticks, Razlo handed Albert a free sample of his anti-venom. Albert swirled the contents of the bottle, peering dubiously at the pieces of radscorpion flesh floating within the milky liquid contained within.

'So you're saying that if we ever get stung by a radscorpion or some other venomous creature, we should… drink this? Won't it go bad soon… if it hasn't already?'

'It won't taste too good after a few months,' Razlo replied, 'but then, from what I've been told, it doesn't taste good _now_.'

'Got that right,' piped a young man who bore some resemblance to Seth, the leader of the guards. Seth's younger brother Jarvis had made a speedy recovery indeed since the afternoon. When last Albert had seen him, the young man had been delirious and had seemed to be somewhere not too far away from the brink of death. He was still pale and looked rather undernourished but that he was sitting upright at all was impressive. 'Don't get me wrong,' Jarvis continued, 'I _am _grateful to all of you and to our good doctor. But, let me tell you, unless someone dumps a load in your mouth, you're not likely to taste anything worse.'

'Here,' said Seth from two seats away as he handed his younger brother a beer. 'This should help.'

'I'll need to drink Shady Sands' entire supply of booze before I get anywhere close to washing away _that _taste,' said Jarvis. Seth smiled and shook his head.

'We _are _very grateful to you all for solving our radscorpion problem,' Seth reaffirmed to Albert and the rest.

'I wouldn't count your chickens… or your brahma, for that matter... just yet,' said Albert. 'We blocked off _one _entrance. There may be more.'

'We've never found one,' Seth replied. 'Regardless, you have at the least slowed them down _and _given us the means to create an antidote for their poison. Even if the radscorpions find another way out, with the antidote we should be able to fight off what's left of them.

* * *

><p>Aradesh was true to his word, and by the next morning when they packed up to leave for Vault-15, he had supplied them with fresh food and water, directions for the fastest route to Vault-15 and for reaching its secondary entrance, and additional flares and rope to help them navigate their way down to the elevator shafts to the vault storage room. Unfortunately, Shady Sands did not keep a supply of dynamite at hand and they were not due for another visit by trading caravans for another week. That meant for the vault dwellers that blowing a path down the blocked stairwell was not an option; they were going to have to climb down for sure.<p>

The vault dwellers and Ian left Shady Sands with a crowd of villagers waiting to see them off – a far more congenial and far less suspicious atmosphere than when they had first arrived. It seemed that, in this tough and dangerous new post-apocalyptic world, favors were held in high regard and could make all the difference in one's survival chances. It was a message the vault dwellers pondered over and took to heart as they set off in an easterly direction to Vault-15.

* * *

><p>Their journey to Vault-15 took one-and-a-half days, slowed in part by the increasing elevation of their journey and by the large mountain in their way around which they had to spend the first day circumnavigating. Along the way, Ian told them stories of Junktown and the Hub to the southwest. Junktown was a settlement constructing out of the ruins of Ridgecrest – a pre-war town situated along 178. Its namesake came from the wall of junked cars that had been piled atop one another to create a barrier around the town. It was run by a man named Killian Darkwater – a good and decent man by Ian's standards. While Killian provided the administrative guidance, law, and basic provisions for the town and its inhabitants, however, entertainment came more from the locals. One in particular, a man who had taken the name "Gizmo", ran a hive of gambling and underworld activity under the guise of the local casino. It was good for the overall business of the town but also sustained a rather dangerous community of thugs and criminals whom Killian's brand of law only barely tolerated.<p>

If hearing about this image of a post-apocalyptic civilization served to dampen the vault dwellers' spirits and challenge their original visions of civilization rebuilt, Ian's account of the Hub offered no recompense. By Ian's telling, the Hub was supposedly the biggest trading center in the New West. It was technically run by three major merchant groups – the Water Merchants, the Crimson Caravan, and the Far Go Traders – but the Water Merchants, who had primary access to most of the town's water supplies, were the _de facto _leaders. Even so, the booming town was mired in political fighting between the traders and, over the past years, had seen its expansion and development stagnate due to the infighting.

Besides the broad descriptions that Ian gave about the two towns, the vault dwellers also learnt that their new companion was not as much the world weary a desert wanderer as they had initially assumed him to be. While on the second day of their journey, Ian told them about his wife, Marissa, whom he had met and married in one of outlying farms surrounding the Hub. It was both a happy and sad tale, for while, on the one hand, it was clear that Ian thought fondly of her and of their first meeting, his work as a caravan guard and, later, as a guard for Shady Sands meant that the amount of time he actually spent with his wife was sparse and sporadic. What was even more surprising was Ian's admission that while he had not seen Marissa in months since his injury, that had not been the longest amount of time he had spent away from her.

To the vault dwellers, this notion of people not being able to see their loved ones for months at a time sounded strange in comparison with not only their own lives in the Vault but also with all the pre-war movies they had watched where modern technology had enabled people to travel across the world in a day. Ironically then, modern technology, which had enabled people to stay in contact with one another with the click of a mouse or a quick and efficient flight, had also, with a sudden and fell swoop, reduced humanity back to its primitive origins. Technology had not only destroyed many of the very people it had been developed to serve but also itself.

It was as they were pondering this new implication in silence that the four companions stumbled onto the secondary entrance to Vault-15 in the middle of the afternoon without even meaning to. In their eagerness to hear Ian's many stories from the wasteland (and parch his throat dry in the process), they had travelled further than they had realized and now found themselves not far from the small hut built into the side of the nearest mountain to the east where the secondary entrance to Vault-15 was located. Further southeast, they could make out the road that led to the original main entrance. With no reason to doubt Aradesh's words that that path was blocked, they left their descending path and, instead, climbed the slope leading up to the hut.

The old shack was barely standing, its wood and aluminum walls creaky and appearing as though they could collapse at the slightest gust of wind. Once upon a time, the hut must have functioned as a store house of some kind judging by the numerous shelves lining the walls and the multiple wooden palettes on the inside. Perhaps it had been set up during the construction of Vault-15 and had simply been left standing once the project had been completed. Either way, the shack was empty, its interior having been looted long ago.

As per Aradesh's directions, they found the secondary entrance under a pile of palettes near the back of the hut. Pulling the wooden boards aside, they found a single, rickety, old ladder leading down into the darkness below. It looked like it would barely support Ian's weight, let alone Stone's, but, aside from its groaning, the ladder held up to their initial tests. Carefully, Ian led the way down.

Inside, the caves were cool, dry, and still. But the sound of distant scrabbling made the four companions wary. Their most recent experiences in the radscorpion caves still echoed clearly in their minds. This time, however, the sounds were not those of insect legs on stone. This time it was another different yet still familiar sound.

'Rats,' Natalia muttered in disgust. Ian pulled out his Colt and thumbed the safety off. The others followed suit. By the light of Ian's flare, they progressed slowly forward.

Sure enough, as they moved on, they soon found the caves crawling with mutant rats of the sort they had encountered outside Vault-13. Fortunately, these were smaller than the ones they had faced and, on top of that, didn't appear to be as hunger-crazed. The rats, for the most part, seemed more concerned with avoiding human contact, which suited the four companions just fine.

Once again following Aradesh's directions, the group managed to avoid several wrong turnings till, finally, in a few more minutes, they found themselves at the main entrance to Vault-15. But nothing they had been told prepared them for the sight that they now beheld.

The design of the outer vault door was almost identical to that of Vault-13, with the same cog-shaped entryway and the metal threads on which the enormous door could be rolled aside, granting passage to those who would seek to enter or leave the vault. But where the door _should _have been, there was now only a gaping hole. And that wasn't because the door had been rolled aside. Rather, the cog-shaped wheel of a door lay almost ten feet away from its metal threads. Once it had provided protection to the inhabitants of Vault-15 from both radiation and hostile creatures in the outside world. Now it was nothing more than a heavy piece of scrap metal. The mechanical arm that was used to open and close the heavy vault door was bent at an odd angle, damaged beyond repair. The door had clearly been blasted outwards from within. But what could have exerted a force strong enough to lift an enormous steel door ten feet?

By the light of Ian's flare, Natalia knelt down by the door and rubbed a finger across its surface. Black soot wiped off on her finger. From where they stood, a quick glance at the walls of the airlock showed similar treatment. Some kind of explosion must have rocked the vault from within – an explosion apparently contained and forceful enough to cause multiple system failures and cave-ins.

'I am suddenly even less confident about finding that chip,' Natalia voiced, getting back to her feet and dusting her knees. 'What could have caused such an—' she cut herself off abruptly. 'Hear that?' she asked. A strange snuffling sound could be heard emerging from within the vault, past the airlock. The light from Ian's flare couldn't reach that far, leaving them with only their imaginations to visualize whatever was moving around ahead.

'Rats,' said Stone.

'This one sounds different,' Natalia insisted.

Ian lowered himself enough so he could drop the flare on the ground without creating any noise. With both his hands freed, he aimed his gun at the cog-shaped opening of the vault.

'Ready your weapons,' he warned the rest of them. 'And be prepared to dodge.'

'What is it?' Albert asked, as the snuffling grew closer from around the corner.

'Mole rat,' said Ian.

'That doesn't sound so bad,' said Stone.

'It's a misnomer,' said Ian, just as the creature making the noises burst out from the darkness into the airlock and barreled straight down towards them. Ian was right. In light of the flare, the creature did bear some resemblance to a cross between a rat and a mole. But that was just in appearance. In terms of size, it was not a rat that came charging towards them but something at least ten times larger.

Four handguns came to life and the caves were filled with the deafening and reverberating sounds of gunfire. Splotches of dark red opened up on the mole rat's body and head, but it hardly seemed to slow. As it erased the distance between itself and them in seconds, the four companions were forced to cease their fire and jump out of the way of its charge. Stone, unfortunately, was slower than the rest in both reactions and speed. His last bullet caught the mole rat in between the eyes, but by then, creature was already on top of him, knocking the the large man off his feet.

The remaining three trained their guns on the mole rat but refrained from firing lest they hit their friend. Yet all was still. As the echoes died down, they gazed with trepidation at the giant rodent corpse. Underneath it, they could see only Stone's arms and legs sticking out and, for a moment, they were struck with the horrifying thought that Stone had been fatally injured. But a sudden cough from beneath the corpse got them all breathing again. Then, to their surprise, the cough turned into a laugh.

'This ain't no mole _or _rat!' they heard Stone from under the rat's body. 'It's a fucking bear!' And just like that, the tension was gone and they all found themselves laughing as they struggled to roll the immense body of the mole rat off their friend.

Stone was bruised and scratched, but seemed to be fine. Lacking his bulk, the others weren't so sure that they would have fared quite as well had they been the ones knocked over by the rat.

'I hope that's the last of its kind in there,' Natalia commented.

'You usually get just one or two of them in a pack of pig rats,' said Ian, retrieving his fallen flare.

'Pig… rats?' said Stone.

'You'll know them when you hear them,' Ian explained. 'Don't worry, they're smaller.'

'Are we talking pig-small here?' asked Stone. ''Cause pigs ain't all that small.'

Ian shook his head. 'More like dogs.'

'Bad enough,' said Stone.

Leaving behind the body of the mole rat, they stepped past the fallen outer vault door and into the burnt out passageway of the airlock within. Just like in Vault-13, the airlock had a locker set in the eastern wall – almost invisible to those who didn't know it was already there – filled with half a dozen emergency flares. They distributed the flares amongst themselves as equally as possible, thankful for the added time for exploration that the additional flares gave them.

As they moved further into the vault, the soot-lined walls gave clear indication that the explosion that had knocked out the outer vault door had been far reaching indeed. The computers and other electronics on this floor were mostly destroyed beyond recognition and, even if there had been power, every light on this level was broken. It was becoming increasingly clear that, somehow, either the vault's primary geothermal power plant had gone haywire, or the secondary nuclear power supply had exploded. Judging by the prevalence of the rats, it was probably the former which had then set of secondary explosions on multiple levels – enough o cause the cave-ins. Either way, it had made their work a lot harder.

Bypassing a few more mutated rats, Ian and the vault dwellers made their way over to the elevators and stairwells. A quick look at both emergency stairwells revealed that they were indeed blocked beyond all access. Even if they had brought any dynamite, it would not have been enough. As for the elevators, none were working, as anticipated. Prying open one of the doors revealed an empty elevator shaft that descended down several hundred feet, at least according to Natalia's estimate after dropping a lighted flare down to the bottom. Fortunately, they would not have to descend all the way to the bottom. According to Aradesh, the main vault storage room was seven storeys down – approximately eighty feet. Each coil of rope was forty-five feet in length. Taking into account the tying of knots and the extra slack at the bottom so they wouldn't be left dangling by the very edge of the rope, it would take them just over two coils to reach the eighth storey from the first. Taking these calculations into consideration, the group planned to stop every three storeys, at both the fourth, seventh, and finally the eighth floor. More than just allowing them to set up the next coil of rope, it permitted them some time to recuperate their strength for each leg of the descent.

The four took off their packs and substituted them with smaller drawstring sacks Aradesh had provided them. All they brought along were extra flares, a canteen of water per person, some stimpaks, and emergency supplies from Albert's first aid kit. Everything else was just dead weight, and they needed to be as light as possible for both descending and, later, ascending the elevator shaft. In the unlikely scenario that someone else was prowling around, before journeying downwards they hid their larger packs in a few of the virtually invisible wall lockers in the Emergency Medical Laboratory on the same floor.

After a refresher from Natalia (who had plenty of experience using vault gym ropes) on how best to grip the rope to afford maximum friction and save the most strength, the four began their long descent, Stone leading the way; in the case of any accidents, no one wanted Stone landing on their heads. In addition, having Stone at the bottom acted as a an emergency buffer. If anyone _were _to lose their grip and fall by accident, only Stone would be able to stop them _while _still maintaining his own grip on the rope.

The climb down was difficult, made all the more stressful by thought of falling hundreds of feet to a sudden death. While it was technically possible for each of them to make it down three storeys without a pause, the added pressure of the potential fall slowed down their progress considerably and they found themselves frequently taking short breaks on the girders of the metal framework lining the elevator shaft at each level.

After what seemed like ages, Stone reached the fourth storey. The process of opening the door to the fourth storey with only one free hand took almost as long as the descent and by the time Stone managed to get both elevator doors on the fourth storey fully open, he was more than ready for a rest.

When all four were down, instead of just letting their arms rest for a few minutes before descending again, Albert suggested they search the rest of the level for any supplies that might prove useful . Vault-15 may have been attacked by raiders but if it was the explosion (or explosions) that had finally ended the vault, then there might be a chance that much of the vault had escaped looting.

The floor they were on was one of the many used to house the vault's living quarters, and since the design had been standardized by Vault-Tec before the War, there was little difference with what the vault dwellers were used to back at Vault-13. That also meant that there was little risk of getting lost. So with their plan to meet back at the elevators in fifteen minutes having been set (or whenever their flares started to die out; whichever came first), Albert went with Ian and took the east wing while Natalia and Stone took the west.

* * *

><p>'So what will you do once the three of you manage to get your hands on a workable water purification chip?' Ian asked as both he and Albert explored the darkened corridors of the east wing. At each room, they stopped to examine the interior, emptying drawers and cupboards in the hopes of finding something useful that they could salvage.<p>

'Besides just feeling proud of ourselves, the plan is to use it as a bargaining chip, no pun intended, so our overseer will permit those of us who eventually wish to leave the vault to begin scouting expeditions to find a place for a new settlement.'

'So you wish to leave your vault, then.'

'I do. Eventually. And so do a sizeable number of residents in the vault. I can't speak for Natalia or Stone, though.'

'Do you have family back in your vault?'

'Both parents.'

'And are they part of this group that wishes to live outside of the vault?'

'They are. In fact… I haven't told anyone about this, but that's really the reason for all this. My parents belong to the first generation in the vault that has lived its entire life in a cave, essentially. All they've ever wanted was to be on the surface – to experience just a taste of what their parents and grandparents felt. But that hasn't happened, and if people like our overseer continue to lead the vault, that may never happen.'

'It might if no one finds the water chip.'

'It might. But that would mean forcing half a thousand people out into the desert without any prior experience or proper preparation. As much as I want my parents, and anyone else who wishes it, to see the outside world for themselves, it can't be something forced on them or on the rest of the vault who may not feel the same way. The vault dwellers need to be able to make informed decisions, and they're not going to have that option unless we can provide them with sufficient knowledge about what the outside world is really like.'

'You're an idealist,' Ian commented.

Albert shrugged. 'Maybe I am. But isn't equality, fairness, and freedom of choice something we should all be striving for in this new post-war civilization?'

'That may sound nice,' said Ian, 'but I think you'll soon find that _this _world is highly resistant to idealism. Equality, fairness, and freedom sound great, but they don't work in practice. From what I've been told, they didn't work before the war, and they sure don't work now. And don't get me wrong: I wish you were right and that such a thing was actually possible. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to be the one to point out your naivety. No offense.'

'None taken. But those are some pretty philosophical words,' Albert mused. 'To be honest, I wasn't expecting quite so much thinking from a caravan guard. No offense.'

It was Ian's turn to shrug. 'None taken. When you're recuperating from injuries, you get a lot of time to read and think about useless things like that. And, let me tell you, the injury that landed me in Shady Sands was certainly not the first of its kind.'

By this point, the two men had reached their fourth room and, though they had still found nothing but bits of odds and ends (and many spare vault jumpsuits), they still went through the motions of searching every drawer and cupboard. When Ian opened the room's wardrobe, as he had done with the previous three, he stopped, surprised that he might have actually found something of value.

'Hello,' he said, voicing his surprise. 'What have we here?' Albert ceased his search and joined Ian as the former caravan guard pulled out from the wardrobe what seemed to be a heavy, black leather jacket. By all appearances, it seemed almost new. Ian looked Albert over, gauging his shoulder width. 'First spoils of war,' he said, tossing the jacket over.

'I'm not really into leather,' said Albert.

'Just the other things, eh?' Ian joked. Albert didn't seem to get his joke and Ian grew serious again. 'It will prove far more useful than you can imagine. And besides, it's your size. Not mine.'

'I just don't see much use for it,' Albert responded.

'Let me demonstrate my point,' said Ian. Before Albert could react, Ian whipped out his knife and made a slicing motion at Albert. With absolutely no time to retreat, Albert did the first thing he could think of, raising the jacket to fend off the attack.

'What the hell are you doing?' he yelled a moment later, leaping back in case Ian chose to take another swing as what had just happened sunk in.

Ian brought his flare closer. 'Take a look at where I made the cut,' he said. Warily, Albert turned the jacket over. A small slice in the chest area of the jacket was the only evidence of Ian's attack. 'Now think about what would have happened if I had made the same attack and you had only been wearing what you're wearing now.' Realization dawned on Albert. 'If you really want to survive in this world, you're going to have to adapt to it. And that means taking every precaution to keep you alive for as long as possible. A slice may not kill you, but if it maims you enough to afford your attacker a second free strike… that may be the end of your story. If you end up visiting Junktown or the Hub one of these days, this here jacket might well save your life.'

After Albert had donned the jacket over his jumpsuit, the two men searched the last room and, finding nothing, returned to the elevators. Natalia and Stone were already waiting for them, their search having turned up nothing. Both were surprised at Albert's new look.

'Is Ian's sense of style rubbing off?' Natalia commented playfully, implicitly noting that both men were now similarly attired in black leather jackets.

'It's the new craze, what can I say?' Albert jested in return. 'Black is back.'

Natalia rolled her eyes but grinned.

* * *

><p>The next leg of the descent went by faster. They were more familiar with the territory this time and thus were able to descend with more confidence. Stone, who had learnt the long and arduous way how to get into a good enough position to gain leverage to open an elevator door with one hand, managed to gain access to the seventh floor in half the time it had taken his earlier attempt three storeys up. Even the exploration of the seventh floor was shorter, not just because they didn't need quite as long a break but also because much of this floor was blocked by rubble.<p>

The eight floor was not quite so simple. There was a lot going on in this floor. Not only was the general store room located here, but so was the vault library, the main vault meeting room, the computer hub controlling the less essential vault operations, and, of course, the CCC itself. Once again, Stone went down first to open the elevator door, followed by Ian, Albert, and then Natalia.

This time, as Natalia was coming down to join the three men, she was in for a rude shock. Gunfire erupted just as the corridor leading down from the elevator doors came into view and Natalia suddenly found herself facing the charging maw of another mole rat. The three men dived to the side to avoid the stampeding beast but Natalia was not so lucky.

Blinded by the wounds already inflicted by the gunfire, the mole rat ran headlong out the elevator doorway and directly into Natalia. Natalia's feet connected with the mole rat's head as its impact launched her away from the doorway like a pendulum. Fortunately, the rat did not managed to get a hold on her and, a moment later, was plummeting to its death down below. Spinning on the rope from the impact, Natalia frantically adjusted her body weight so that on her return swing she was aimed for the doorway and not for one of the pieces of the elevator shaft's metal framework.

Natalia's calculations and adjustments proved correct, and she swung through the doorway, releasing her grip as she did so. Summoning all of her acrobatic skill and experience, she turned her fall into a graceful roll and came to a crouching stop, eight feet into the corridor from the elevator doorway. Turning around, she saw the three men slowly getting to their feet. Albert had been directly struck by the charging mole rat and needed some time to recover from the impact. The right sleeve of his metal jacket had a long rip where one of the mole rat's claws had grazed his arm. The gash on his shoulder was not fatal but was bleeding freely.

Pulling out an antiseptic spray and some bandages from his pack, Ian staunched the flow of blood and then proceeded to dress Albert's wound.

'Bet you're glad you put on that jacket now, huh?' he said.

'Not if you're a big fan of irony,' said Albert.

Once the bandages were in place, Ian administered one of the stimpaks directly into Albert's shoulder.

'Ever used one of these?' Albert asked Ian as he felt the drugs course through his system, giving him a slightly flushed feeling in his skin.

'More times than you want to know,' said Ian.

'We were told to use it only in emergencies,' Albert explained.

Ian gave him a knowing glance. 'Most of these rats have been crawling in places and feeding on things you don't even want to know about,' he said. 'You may think a little scratch won't do much, but if you don't have access to proper medical facilities, which we don't, infection could set in and you might end up losing the arm. So, trust me, this is nipping a potential emergency in the bud.'

Once the drugs in the stimpak began to kick in and Albert felt fit to continue the exploration, they split up once again to cover as much ground as possible. Since Albert and Natalia had been spending a little time every day since leaving Vault-13 reading the copy of _Deans Electronics _they had been given, they were the most knowledgeable about what the water purification chip looked like and how to extricate it from computer hardware were they to find it. Consequently, it was thus only logical that the two of them paired together to search the CCC and then the storage room. Ian and Stone were tasked with exploring the meeting room, vault library, and the computer hub.

* * *

><p>'So what happens if we don't find what we're looking for?' Natalia asked as she and Albert took the eastbound corridor to the CCC. 'I mean, I know the only option, really, is to head south to Junktown and the Hub. But what do we do about the rest of Vault-13? They're going to be expecting us.'<p>

'We can't afford to spend another three days going back to Vault-13 from Shady Sands,' Albert replied. 'Especially not if we don't even have a lead to some other place that might have a chip. And it would be too dangerous to send just one of us back alone. I say we give Junktown and the Hub a look-see. Hopefully we can get some kind of lead from those places—'

'Like the location of another vault?'

'That would be the ideal. But even if we don't end up getting that kind of information we would at least learn of other places we might search that are Vault-Tec related. Who knows, maybe some of the old pre-War cities might even house old Vault-Tec facilities and manufacturing plants… And, in the mean time—'

'We can get the merchants in the Hub to send back water supplies.'

Albert gave her a quick look. 'You were waiting for me to say that, weren't you?'

'It's a good idea,' she affirmed comfortingly. 'The Overseer would be stupid not to accept water supplies and, at the same time, it would expose the vault to its first contact with the outside world – exactly what you're looking for.'

'So why bait me? There's something you're not saying. I—'

They turned the next corner and stopped short. The entrance leading directly into the CCC lay before them, but an impressive amount of rubble had collapsed, completely blocking off the corridor. The cave-in was so severe that rocks actually piled out of the doorway onto the floor.

'Well, we _were_ prepared for disappointment,' Natalia said, her voice still sounding stunned.

Albert walked forward and tried to pry a stone loose from the landslide of rocks. It didn't budge. 'Someone tried to find a way in before us,' he observed, picking up a crowbar by the side of the rubble. He took a step atop one of the larger stones and peered through the gaps in the rubble to get a glimpse of what lay beyond. 'Even if we had brought explosives, it wouldn't have worked,' he concluded. 'The way is blocked at least twenty feet in, and that probably means the CCC itself is going to be buried under even more rock.'

'Well, we still have the storeroom, I guess,' said Natalia.

'Let's keep our fingers crossed,' Albert replied as they made their way back.

The two backtracked till they found the storeroom. But while this room seemed to have been spared any cave-ins, the two were still disheartened to find the room emptier than they had hoped. Many of the items lining the shelves and stored in the lockers and cupboards were useless bits of mechanical hardware. It may have been the explosion that had finally ended Vault-15, but it had been the residents who had cleared out as much of the vault as possible before that. Natalia lit her own flare and the two split the room in half to expedite their search.

'So you were about to tell me why you wanted to bring up the subject of sending water back to the vault,' Albert called to Natalia from his side of the room.

'I know it's been on your mind,' said Natalia. 'What with all we've heard about the crime in Junktown, the political infighting in the Hub, the raiders attacking Shady Sands… is this really the world we want to live in?'

For a long moment that seemed to stretch on forever in the darkened room, Albert said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded tentative, lacking some of its usual confidence.

'But can we go on living in an artificial world?' he asked her in reply. 'Whatever the world has become… it's still the world. Can we just turn our backs on that reality?'

'But we're not globalized anymore,' Natalia retorted. 'For better or worse, that part of human civilization is gone. We're little different from what we used to be like in pre-modern times. Is it necessarily so wrong to live in small communes as our ancestors used to do? And, along those same lines, you still haven't answered _my _question. Without the technology making interconnectedness necessary, do we really want to leave our vault commune and live instead in this dog-eat-dog world?'

Again, Albert was silent.

'I don't mean to be giving you a hard time,' Natalia's voice came back, softer this time, 'God knows I was all for moving out of the vault… But… I don't even know what I want anymore. We're not living in the twenty-first century anymore. Should we really still be trying to live by its rules?

'The question I would ask,' said Albert, in response, 'isn't so much about whether the rules of a previous century still apply today. Even without the war, things would have changed. But I think we should be asking ourselves if those rules are rules that we would want to re-enact and revive. And I think some of them are. Law and order, freedom from corruption, guaranteed safety from the dangers of the environment… those sound like things we should be working towards even if we don't really have them anymore, or perhaps even _because _we don't have them anymore, don't you think?'

'A part of me still agrees with you,' said Natalia, 'but the other part says you might be entertaining a little too much idealism.'

'You're beginning to sound like Ian,' Albert replied. 'Him I can understand. But how does a seventeen-year-old, growing up in a vault, get to be so cynical? I keep forgetting you're ten years younger. We haven't been out here a _week_ and you're already sounding like a grumpy old woman.'

'I… haven't had a very happy vault life…'

'Family issues?'

'Just my dad… He's the only one left and it's like he…. Hello. What have we here?'

'The similarity between you and Ian's mannerisms is starting to get a little disturbing,' Albert observed as he jogged over to Natalia's position. He arrived to find her pulling out what looked like a submachine gun and two almost-spherical objects from under a couple of vault security uniforms at the bottom of a locker. She tossed him one of the round objects. Instinctively Albert caught it, then almost dropped it in shock.

'Did you just throw a fucking grenade at me?' he blurted in alarm.

'They're not as fragile as you think,' she said. The pin's still firmly in place and, besides, it was a low toss.'

'Even so… It's at least eighty-four years old and _if_, on the off-chance, it had been triggered, _both of us _would have been blasted to tiny little pieces, leaving Ian and Stone to clean up our mess.'

'That's not how it works,' Natalia countered, dismantling the SMG to ensure all its parts were intact. 'The fragmentation grenade you're holding only has a small, concentrated explosive charge. It's the container itself that forms most of the damaging fragments. So you wouldn't actually "blow up". And the blast radius is only about seven-and-a-half feet. You're more like at ten. I'd have been fine, actually.'

'All that sounds familiar,' said Albert, recalling the _Guns and Bullets _magazine they had both pored over. 'But, your rather morbid sense of humor aside, how on earth did you remember all of that?'

Natalia shrugged. 'Just comes naturally,' she said. 'Like this,' she said, reassembling the SMG and waving it in the air. 'This is an H&K MP9 – capable of both single and burst fire. Effective at close and medium range. Thirty-round capacity magazine, and, unlike its other counterparts, this one uses 10mm bullets.'

'So we can basically use the same ammunition we've been feeding into our pistols…' said Albert, drawing out the implication.

'Exactly.'

'Well, that's useful to know, I guess. Maybe you actually do belong more in this world than the vault.'

'Now who's being cynical?'

* * *

><p>Their supply of flares were beginning to run low when Albert and Natalia concluded that there was nothing else of consequence in the storage room. Besides the weapons, they found only another coil of rope and a pack of dynamite with a timer. The dynamite was a valuable find, but while they considered trying their luck with the rubble blocking the passageway to the CCC, their better judgments told them it would just be a waste.<p>

Ian and Stone were waiting for them by the time they got back. Their own search had been shorter but had not turned up a water chip either. The visit to the vault library had proven useless as anticipated, the computer hub had suffered one of the secondary explosions at some point and practically every piece of delicate equipment had been either ruined or destroyed, and the only useful location in the meeting room, where the emergency supply cabinet would have been located, had been buried under tons of rock.

They still had enough flares to do a quick sweep of one of the other floors but there was little reason to do so. This was the only floor where a chip would logically be located. So, with the realization that they would have to look for the chip elsewhere, the four companions prepared to return to ground level.

Albert's wound had almost fully clotted, partially thanks to the stimpak, but none of the others thought it advisable for him to make an eighty-foot ascent using the injured arm. The solution, then, was for Ian and Stone to go up first while Natalia helped fasten a different coil of rope to him like a harness. Then they would tie the other rope to the harness and pull him up, lowering it after so that Natalia could then join them. It would greatly slow their ascent, but no one except Albert protested.

Ian went up, and then Stone, as planned, leaving Natalia to help Albert with the harness. Albert sat on the ground in front of the elevator doorway, working on securing the harness around his thighs and waist while Natalia secured the knots, especially around the back where he couldn't reach. She had come around his front and had bent over to tie an extra loop around his chest for added security when Albert suddenly became wary.

'Spread your legs a little more,' he said abruptly but softly, trying to peer between the gap at something further down the corridor.

'What?' Natalia spluttered.

Albert hushed her as he slowly began drawing one of the fragmentation grenades from his belt. Suddenly getting his point, Natalia shifted her legs and bent her head to catch a glimpse of what he had seen.

At the end of the hallway, the light of the flare barely reaching them, were three very large and muscular looking rats. They stood at nearly the height of full-grown labradors but were far larger in girth. Both in skin tone, some degree of appearance, and by the snorting sounds they were making, each creature resembled a cross between a rat and a pig.

'Just finish up and let's get out of here,' Albert whispered. 'I don't think they can see us, but they can definitely smell something of us.'

'Almost done…' said Natalia, speeding up her work while Albert prepared to pull the pin on the grenade.

'Shit. They've got us,' Albert said suddenly, a moment before the rats broken into a charge. 'Just keep going,' he encouraged. 'Seven-and-a-half feet you said?'

'Give it to me,' Natalia insisted, temporarily stopping her work. Taking the grenade from his hand, she pulled the pin free, and, after a quick calculation, lobbed the grenade to a point along the corridor between them and the pig rats.

The grenade exploded on impact, its timing and placing perfect. Natalia threw herself over Albert as the explosion caught the three rats in its blast radius. Shrill pig-like squeals intermingled with the sound of the explosion for the briefest of moments. Then all was still.

'What the hell just happened?' they heard Ian's voice coming down from the floor above.

At first, neither Albert nor Natalia said anything. Then they realized she was lying almost directly on top of him as if to protect him from the blast. But it was clear neither of them had been harmed. The explosion had indeed been highly contained.

'What happened to seven-and-a-half feet?' Albert said almost directly into Natalia's ear.

Hurriedly she pushed herself off him in embarrassment. 'It was just instinctive,' she offered as an excuse for having tackled him to the floor.

'Well, maybe you could get back to work on the ropes again,' said Albert, his voice suddenly more urgent. Looking back down the corridor, Natalia saw the three corpses of the pig rats lying still on the floor, their bodies carved up by shrapnel from the grenade. But it was the sounds of more snorting and snuffling from around the corner that got her attention. Focusing herself, she returned to her task.

In a few more seconds she was done and called for Ian and Stone to haul him up. At first, the progress was gradual and slow since they didn't want Albert to end up knocking his head on the roof of the doorway. But when the half dozen pig rats suddenly burst into the corridor with Albert still only halfway out, Natalia realized this would not work.

'On three, pull! Hard!' she yelled to the two men upstairs. 'One! Two! Three!' With that, she shoved Albert completely out into the elevator shaft. The two men above heaved, clearing him completely out of the doorway. Natalia turned her head to find six frighteningly large mutant rats almost on top of her. Turning tail, she raced for the elevator doorway. She angled her body and made a diagonal leap as she pushed off into the elevator shaft from the doorway, her arms outstretched to catch the bars of the metal framework in the shaft almost seven feet away. Her fingers caught hold of the frame and, for a few seconds until she managed to pull herself up, she was dangling by her grip over a several-hundred-foot drop.

The pig rats were not quite as blind or dumb as the mole rat had been, and stopped before any of them actually fell off the edge, but they were now no longer a threat. They gathered by the elevator doorway, making their futile pig grunts, but that was all they could do. Once Albert had been hauled up, Ian and Stone tossed the rope over to where Natalia was standing precariously along the metal frame of the shaft. From there, it was a simple, though tedious and tiring, matter of getting Albert up the remaining six floors back to ground level.

It was late at night when they finally retrieved their backpacks and got back to the old shack above ground. After breaking for a quick dinner, they camped there for the night, both to give their tired arms a proper rest as well as to mentally process the disheartenment each vault dweller felt at the mission's failure. Each of them knew that, although they were not out of options and that Junktown and the Hub were the obvious next locations to visit, they now had thoroughly lost the sense of confidence that had been driving them for most of the past week since leaving Vault-13. Reality had now truly sunk in and, for the first time, they found themselves doubting they might ever actually find a substitute water chip.


	7. Chapter 6: The Khans

Every time I go back and look at this chapter again, I feel a little crappier for having written it (and it was already pretty difficult for me to bring myself to write it the first time around). Let me give you fair warning that this chapter is the darkest one I've written (or, probably, will ever write). The subject matter is pretty much implied in the original game, but that doesn't make me feel any better for having written it. When I'm finally done with this novel, I will consider coming back to this chapter and revising the content while retaining the severity of the issues involved, just because this has to be a major turning point for the vault dwellers in order to logically coincide with canonical details.

**Chapter Six: The Khans**

The four companions spent the next day-and-a-half traveling back to Shady Sands, intending to stop over to replenish their supplies before heading south (and slightly west) to Junktown – a journey Ian said would take about nine days. None of them were feeling particularly cheery by their failed expedition and the journey back was made in relative silence. Each of the vault dwellers, even Stone, realized just how precarious and uncertain the future of Vault-13 now was, and the thought weighed heavily on them all.

Short of actually finding a water chip by pure improbable chance, the only thing that could jolt them out of their severely dampened mood was a new crisis. And one was waiting for them when they got back to Shady Sands.

They had not even reached the wall when both Seth and Aradesh came rushing out to meet them, their faces clearly showing that something serious had been troubling them.

'Thank goodness you came!' Aradesh exclaimed as he reached them, his anxiety replaced partially by relief at their arrival.

'What's go—' Albert began but Aradesh cut him off as the words burst rapidly from his lips.

'I am in desperate need of assistance. My daughter, Tandi, is missing. I do not know what to do!'

'Missing?' Stone said, his face betraying concern for the first time anyone else could remember.

'Kidnapped,' said Seth. 'We believe one of the raider clans is responsible – retribution for our resistance to them.'

'What makes you say that?' Albert asked.

'Seth found her spear where she was last seen, near the brahma pens. There were signs of a brief struggle,' said Aradesh.

'The tracks led southeast,' said Seth.

'Khans,' Ian commented.

'Khans?' Natalia asked.

'There are three groups in the area,' Ian explained. 'The Khans, the Vipers, and the Jackals. The Khans camp to the southeast. They must be getting bolder if they would resort to kidnapping. In the past, all they've tried to do is steal food and occasionally shoot a few people.'

'Haven't you tried to get her back?' Natalia asked Aradesh and Seth.

'My people are not skilled in this,' Aradesh explained. 'Already three patrols have gone out to look, but none returned.' He turned to Albert. 'Katrina tells me you are a skilled negotiator. Perhaps you can convince her kidnappers to release her.' Then his voice turned to a plea. 'Will you help us?'

'I may be a negotiator,' Albert agreed, 'but I can't negotiate with nothing to offer.'

'We will give you the ransom you need to arrange for her release,' Aradesh told him.

'What's to stop them from just taking it by force and leaving us for dead?' Albert replied.

'The Khans are raiders, but they aren't outlaws,' said Ian. 'They travel to other towns to trade, get drunk, and get laid, just like everyone else. They'll treat you like any other person they would meet in one of the towns, _so long as _you're not native to Shady Sands.'

'I find that logic hard to follow,' said Natalia.

'They have developed a rather warped view of morality that has only grown worse over the years,' Aradesh explained. 'You see, they once came from Vault-15, just like many of us.'

'But… shouldn't that make them _less _likely to want to cause you harm?' said Natalia, thoroughly puzzled.

'You would think that,' said Seth. 'But they've somehow convinced themselves that we _owe _them food and supplies _because _we're from the same place.'

'And the violence?' Albert asked.

'They think it gives our lives "excitement",' Seth told them.

'What?! That's insane!' Natalia said in disbelief.

'It's a story they've told themselves so often that it's become reality for many if not all of them,' said Aradesh.

'How do you know all this?' Albert asked.

'We captured a few of them over the years during some of their previous attacks,' Seth explained.

'Captured? What happened to them?'

'We let them go. We can't afford to keep prisoners and the only other option would have been to kill them, and we are _not _them.'

'So let me get this straight,' said Albert. 'You want us to make a trade for Tandi's life on your behalf and you believe this will succeed because we're strangers to them. And you're counting on this working because you think I can… talk well?'

'It is the best we can hope for,' said Aradesh, his face again betraying his anxiety.

'Could you give us a few minutes to talk about this?' said Albert.

'Of course,' Aradesh replied and withdrew with Seth to a distance to allow the vault dwellers to converse privately. Ian made plans to withdraw as well but Albert called him in; he was, for better or worse, now a part of their group.

'We have to save her,' Stone spoke up, much to the surprise of everyone else.

'When did you get so invested in the affairs of Shady Sands?' Natalia commented.

'She's a friend,' the big man stated simply.

'Stone's right,' said Albert. 'Friendship and sentiments aside, I really don't see us having much choice. The nature of our mission has changed. We need to pay a visit to Junktown and, if we find nothing there, the Hub. We'll be needing both supplies and money in order to have any hope of succeeding. Ian, you've dealt with raiders before. What do you think are our chances?'

'The Khans are a sorry bunch of raiders led by a man named Garl who took control over the clan after killing his own father. Garl's a brutal leader, but he's also pretentious. Goes by the title "Death-Hand". Thinks he can take over the world. But the Khans have one big things against them: numbers. Their raiding parties rarely exceed seven or eight in number. And, even then, usually only one or two of them are carrying firearms. That means they tend to go after only small weakly defended traveler groups; they stay away from most caravans. It also means that they either have a shortage of arms or simply don't have the knowhow to use them.'

'Why are they called "Khans"?' Natalia asked.

'From what I've heard, they used to live like pre-modern Mongol warriors, raiding small towns, burning what they couldn't take with them, and sparing survivors only if they needed slaves. But their numbers have dwindled. I think one of their raids went wrong some years back and they no longer have the manpower to conduct raids on large, well-defended settlements.'

'Which leaves Shady Sands, then,' said Albert.

'So how many do you think they have?' Natalia asked.

'If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say between fifteen and twenty.'

'That's still more than I'd like,' said Natalia.

'Well, going up against armed raiders isn't really anyone's cup of tea,' said Ian. 'Otherwise they'd have been wiped out ages ago; or at least this group would.'

'So we're agreed then,' said Albert tentatively.

'I can bring you there,' said Ian, 'but keep in mind that I can't actually enter their camp. Some of them may recognize me from the last time they attacked Shady Sands. And, uh… you,' he nodded at Natalia, 'probably shouldn't enter their camp either.'

'Why—' Natalia began before realizing the import of Ian's implicit suggestion. 'Oh,' she finished. 'Wait, so only Albert and Stone can go? That's crazy.'

'Not _that _crazy,' said Albert looking up at their giant companion.

'True,' Ian agreed. 'And you'll want to look as heavily armed as you possibly can. The Khans respect strength above all else. So the stronger and more threatening you look, the less they're going to want to mess with you.'

* * *

><p>The group informed Aradesh of their decision, along with their request for aid which he was more than happy to provide once his daughter had been returned to him. So without wasting any further time, the group set their packs down, took enough for the forty mile trek to the Khans' camp (and back), including a seven pound bag made of brahma hairs holding one-thousand-five-hundred bottle caps which they would use to secure Tandi's release, and set off southeast along Veterans Memorial Highway. Ian would take them there and then he and Natalia would make temporary camp a few miles off while the other two went the rest of the way.<p>

Along the way, Albert began discussing with Natalia contingency plans in case things went awry and Stone and himself didn't make it. If that were to occur, she would have to return to Vault-13 on her own and petition the Overseer for more people and supplies to investigate Junktown and the Hub, as well as to trade (at least temporarily until a water chip could be found) with the merchants in the Hub for water.

They travelled for the remainder of the day, made camp for one night, and then covered the rest of the distance the next day. By early afternoon, about a mile from the Khans' camp, they found an old transmission tower almost a third of a mile off the road. Ian and Natalia decided to make camp within its fenced perimeter while the remaining two travelled the rest of the way.

With Stone playing the role of muscled bodyguard and Albert equipped not only with his Colt but also Natalia's SMG slung across his back, the two men covered the last mile to the camp. There they found the remnants of a small settlement comprised of small dilapidated buildings, most of which were empty. A little further off the road to the east, they found the camp. A series of tents had been constructed around a single and relatively isolated building that served as the raiders' main headquarters, probably more for defensive purposes than anything else.

Two camp guards noticed their arrival and alerted the rest, and by the time Albert and Stone had reached the outermost tent, they found themselves greeted by five mean and dirty looking raiders, three armed with spears, two with large silver handguns. Albert didn't have Natalia's photographic memory. Still, his recognition of the weapons came not from the _Guns & Bullets _magazine they both had read but rather from late twentieth century movies he seen in Vault-13. These were ancient .44 magnum caliber Desert Eagles, a favorite of the pre-War Hollywood action director. And if there was one practical thing Albert knew about them, it was that they would pack a meaner punch than his 10mm pistol.

'What is your business here, stranger?' said the tallest raider to Albert.

'I want to talk to Garl about the woman you recently took captive. I wish to buy her from you.'

The approach Ian had advised Albert to take paid off. Albert's confidence, bordering on arrogance, worked on the raiders and the tall one instructed one of the others to convey the message to Garl.

While they waited, Albert surveyed the layout of the camp. The four tents had been constructed in a semicircular perimeter around the main single-storey brick building, facing towards the road and the other buildings in the old settlement. The tents were crude, made from what appeared to be brahma hide and secured to the dry wasteland ground by ropes and large stakes that had been hammered into the dirt. In between each pair of tents, a small fire pit had been constructed, ringed with old wooden boxes for seats that were falling apart from the weather. An old rusty automobile stood parked beside the brick building but almost everything in it had been scavenged, leaving only its metal frame. Its rubber tires had been removed at some point and stacked beside it but, over the years, had vulcanized and hardened from the desert heat.

Most of the camp, it seemed, appeared to have been reconstructed from scavenged materials. An old, giant, wooden spool that must have once been used to coil rubber hosing or heavy duty wires now functioned as a table in one of the tents, flanked by smelly, old, spring-less, sickly-green chairs that had once been rear seats of cars. Other random assortments of junk lay strewn about the compound: an old rubber tire sitting in the middle of some weeds, a pile of old cardboard boxes under the awning of the main building that had somehow survived three-quarters of a century, a twin bed mattress that had certainly seen better days, a rusted card door leaning on an equally rusted metal barrel, a pile of wood with some rusty useless nails embedded deeply in it, a wooden table painted a puke green color… The list went on.

When the messenger the tall raider had sent into the house re-emerged, he whispered a few words to the first and then left to resume his post by one of the tents.

'Alright, they're cleared,' said the tall raider, and the remaining three raiders left to return to their respective tents. 'You can go in,' said the raider to Albert and Stone. 'But I'll have to take your guns.'

Before the raider could make a move, Albert had drawn his weapon and had the raider's forehead almost touching the barrel of his Colt.

'If you really wanted my gun, you should have kept your men around,' Albert said in as menacing a tone as he could manage.

The raider looked startled but impressed. He nodded. 'Only the strong deserve to see the Death-Hand. You may pass.'

Amazed that his gamble had probably just saved both his and Stone's lives, Albert led the way in. The first room through the entrance of the main house double-functioned as living quarters for three of the raiders. Three makeshift mattresses were arranged beside one another on one side of the room, while, at the other, there stood a wooden table surrounded by old chairs. The three raiders – two men and one woman – were playing cards. At Albert and Stone's entry, they stopped playing, moving their hands nearer to their spears that lay on the floor. But they let the two men pass unmolested.

As they passed through the first room, Albert thought he heard muffled but rhythmic creaking coming from the next room and, at first, thought the raiders must have salvaged some kind of machine, though he couldn't tell what just from the noise. As he and Stone crossed to the door up ahead leading into the next room, the noise grew louder. It didn't seem to bother the three raiders but it was certainly starting to get to Albert. A quick glance at Stone told him that the bigger man was also puzzling over the noise. What kind of machine was in that next room and what did Garl have planned for them? As they reached the door, their trepidation only worsened.

It was only when Albert opened the next door that he realized just how terribly wrong he had been. A sharp intake of breath was all he could do to stop himself from shouting in utter revulsion at the sight that he now beheld.

There were five people in the room. Four were women. Two of them were seated on moldy old chairs on the left side of the room. They had been in the middle of a conversation but now stood up at Albert and Stone's arrival. They were both dressed in some kind of finely crafted armor made from leather, presumably brahma hide, and both were also armed with Desert Eagles. They unholstered their weapons and held them at the ready. These two women were unmistakably raiders, and likely close assistants, to Garl.

It was clearly a different matter with the other two women on the other side of the room, however, and it was to these women that both Albert and Stone's gazes were affixed. One sat on the floor, dressed in nothing but rags, bruised and battered, her back to the wall, hugging her legs and sobbing quietly. The other was on the bed, stark naked and half-sobbing. Behind her, seemingly oblivious to the attention his actions were drawing, creating the rhythmic creaking of the bed that Albert and Stone had been hearing by his every thrust, stood Garl Death-Hand, in the throes of sexually assaulting the woman before him. Garl gave a few more hard thrusts before grunting one last time and collapsing onto the woman. He lay atop her for a few more seconds to catch his breath before he turned to look at his two new visitors. He grinned at them.

'So I hear you're looking for the woman we took from Shady Sands,' he said, partially out of breath. 'I hope it wasn't_ this _one. 'Cause I'm afraid she's taken… in more ways than one.' He gave a short laugh at his own joke.

Internally, Albert's mind was reeling, almost unable to process what he had just seen. Never in his life had he expected to find depravity of this level – not in the projection vids back in Vault-13 and certainly not in his own imagination. He took a few internal breaths, and then a few more, hoping, as he did so, that Stone had done as well or better at hiding his true reactions.

To make matters worse, Garl then grabbed the woman by her hair and yanked her over to his crotch with the clear intention of having her clean up the mess he had just made. And it was then that Albert came to another sickening realization. Both women… he knew who they were. He had seen them around Shady Sands during the vault dwellers' first visit to the village. They had been sent out as part of one of the patrols Aradesh and Seth had organized, only to be kidnapped the Khans and now raped and humiliated by Garl. Ian had said Garl was brutal but it was only now that it finally dawned upon Albert just how brutal this man truly was.

Albert took another inward breath, trying to calm himself. He reminded himself that both his and Stone's lives depended on him keeping up the façade. That helped. A little.

'Not this one. I'm after the one named Tandi,' he said, doing his best to put on air of nonchalance.

'Not this one?' Garl feigned surprise. 'Well, I suppose she's no longer of use to anyone then,' he shrugged. And before anyone could even react, Garl had pulled out his own Desert Eagle, aimed it at the woman's head, pulled her a few inches back from his flagging erection, and fired. Albert and Stone jumped almost visibly, their horror at what Garl had just done practically uncontainable. The body of the woman, first abused and humiliated, now lay motionless on the sheets, a gaping hole in the top of her head where Garl had administered his sick form of execution. The other woman in rags screamed, drawing his attention and the sights of his weapon.

'Enough!' Albert yelled just as four raiders burst into the room – the three who had been playing cards came in through the door behind Albert and Stone, while another entered from another door on the left side of the room. Amazingly, while surprised at the gunshot, none of them actually seemed as shocked by what they now saw. If anything, Albert noted with disgust, they seemed impressed by the demonstration their leader had just shown. Garl waved them off with one hand as he wiped the blood from his abdomen with the bed sheets. The four raiders returned to their posts.

'Now,' said Garl, tucking his manhood into his trousers and turning to Albert and Stone, his pistol still in hand. 'What did you just say to me?'

'We didn't come to see you blow off the heads of women,' Albert said forcefully, thinking quickly though he could barely process what he had just seen. 'Don't waste our time. Our offer for Tandi stands for only so long.'

'Well now,' said Garl, as he walked around the bed where the bloodied corpse of his most recent victim now lay. 'I haven't had someone make demands of me in _quite_ awhile.' As if on queue, his two assistants raised their guns and, for a moment, Albert thought he had overplayed the part. 'I'm impressed,' said Garl, and Albert felt himself lose a little of his tension as the two female raiders lowered their weapons. Garl made a gesture at a smelly and moldy chair sitting in the sitting area of the room. Ignoring the smell, Albert took a seat while Garl took his own on a rotting, uncomfortable-looking, and equally smelly, old chair sitting on bricks for support. It raised him several inches above Albert which, Albert guessed, was intentional. Stone, who had somehow managed to play his role of bodyguard miraculously well, never having betrayed more than the slightest hint of discomfort at what both he and Albert had just witnessed, remained standing by Albert's side, his arms crossed, a stern look on his face – a look that was now not entirely play-acted.

'So _you _want to buy _my _prisoner,' said Garl. 'What's in it for you?'

'Shady Sands hired my services,' said Albert. 'I get three hundred caps just for making this deal.'

'They _hired_ your services,' Garl mused to himself. 'Sounds awfully radical for people like _them_.'

'They were desperate,' Albert replied. 'I was just stopping over for a couple of days when your raiders got the girl. Once they realized their own expeditions weren't coming back, they turned to me. How many of their patrols did you take out?'

'All of them that came this way,' Garl confided with pride. 'It was nice that they finally decided to share their women with us though.' He gave Albert a knowing grin which Albert reluctantly returned, suddenly feeling unfathomably grateful that Natalia had not come along. But he was now sorely missing Ian's presence. He realized that he was totally out of his depths and that death at the hands of Garl was seeming less and less unlikely as the minutes ticked past.

'Enough small talk,' said Albert. 'I have other contracts in Junktown.'

'Ahh, Junktown,' Garl said nostalgically, leaning back as far as he could in his uncomfortable chair. 'Nowhere better to go after a hard day of pillaging. But you were talking a purchase. How much are you offering for this Tandi girl?'

'Not so fast,' said Albert. 'I want to see her first. Shady Sands wants her alive and well. I hope for your sake you didn't do to her what you did with those two.' Albert gestured at the two Shady Sands women on the other side of the room, one of whom now had a hole in her head.

'No. I was saving her for last,' said Garl. 'And now you want to take her away from me. You'd better make this worth my while.'

'Make it worth mine first,' Albert insisted.

'Oh, very well,' said Garl. 'Gwen!' he called to one of the two other raiders. 'Let this man see the woman.'

Albert got up and followed the one called Gwen through the other door in the room to a short corridor with three adjoining rooms, two on the left, and one further down on the right. The two on the left were barred by iron grills. Behind one Albert saw the familiar form of Tandi, lying on a well-used and worn bed.

'Tandi,' he called.

The girl woke and glanced at him. Her expression swiftly changed to one of almost exuberance when she recognized him. 'It's you!' she yelped in excitement and relief as she leapt up from her bed and to the bars. 'Are you here to get me out?'

'Yes, you just sit tight,' said Albert. 'Are you okay? Have they harmed you in any way?'

'Except for the fact that this bed smells like something crawled inside it and died, I'm fine,' she said. 'But what was that noise I heard? It sounded like a gunshot.'

'Garl killed one of the other women,' said Albert gravely. Tandi covered her mouth and her eyes widened in shock. 'But that won't happen to you,' Albert reassured her. 'We're getting you out of here.'

'What's your plan?'

'We're making a trade for your freedom,' said Albert.

'But…' said Tandi, 'then they win…'

Albert was silent for a moment. 'It's more important to get you out,' he finally replied.

Convinced that Tandi was fine, Albert returned to the main room where Garl was waiting. He had now cracked open a bottle of beer and was sipping leisurely at it while his two assistants wrapped the body of the dead woman in the bed sheets and proceeded to drag it out through the main entrance of the building.

'Try not to leave blood stains on the floor,' Garl said casually as they lugged the body out.

With the two women having left the room, Albert suddenly realized that Garl was sitting alone with none of his aides in the same room. A sudden image of taking out his gun and blowing three holes into Garl's head filled Albert's mind for the briefest of moments, shocking him by the severity of the image. Yet, somehow it not only felt right but also deserved. There was no doubt in Albert's mind that Garl deserved death and worse. But, of course, to try anything would be suicidal and Garl knew that. Albert just hoped Stone knew that too. Noticing Stone's fingers curling over his crossed arms, Albert glanced up and caught Stone's attention, silently giving him a small negative shake of the head. When he was convinced Stone wouldn't try anything irrational, Albert resumed his seat opposite Garl.

'So what do you have to offer me?' said Garl.

'A thousand-three,' said Albert.

'That's a decent amount,' said Garl. 'Could keep my men well-fed for most of a month. But there's something about this girl, isn't there? Why would Shady Sands send out so many patrols just for this one girl? Who is she? She must be important, and that means a thousand-three just ain't gonna cut it.'

'She's some rich merchant's daughter,' Albert said offhandedly. 'The man was passing through town and his daughter said she wanted to stay and learn how the villagers did their farming so she could one day start her own. Some stupid shit like that. But that merchant's coming back. Maybe in a week or two once he's made his runs. And if he finds out he's daughter's been taken while under the 'watchful' eye of the village… well, let's just say he's got a pretty heavily armed caravan.' Albert placed the focus on the trouble Shady Sands would be in, but he was sure Garl got the other message: if the merchant was angry enough to bring down judgment onto Shady Sands, there was an even greater possibility that he might go after the raiders responsible for his daughter's kidnapping. 'I tell you what,' said Albert. 'I can probably squeeze a little more from them if I tell them you were a real hard-ass and I had to fork out extra from my own pocket. So here's what we'll do. I'll offer you a thousand-five, but I'll tell them you demanded a thousand-seven. That way, we both benefit. You get two hundred more than they thought they were paying, and I'll take another two hundred. And it's not _so _high they'll get suspicious.'

'I like how you think,' said Garl. 'But what's stopping me from just demanding a thousand-seven from you right now?'

Albert gave a sigh. 'Well, first of all, I don't _have _a thousand-seven on me. This is an investment on my part, okay? And second, if this deal doesn't fall through for _any _reason, we're both going to have to deal with a mighty pissed-off merchant daddy.'

'My raiders can take 'em,' said Garl. 'We've handled caravans before.'

'Not this one,' said Albert, ignoring Garl's half-lie. 'How well do you think your men's spears will measure up against semi-automatic rifles and armor? You gotta build this kind of thing up. Take the money, invest in better weapons, and then build your way up the food chain. That's the only way a man can rule the world.' Garl's eyes glinted at that and Albert knew he had him.

They made the exchange and one of the two female raiders who had now returned brought Tandi out to them.

'Take her and go before I change my mind,' said Garl, attempting to reassert that he was in control and command of the situation.

As Albert, Stone, and Tandi turned to leave, the one remaining villager whom Garl had not killed reached out to Albert.

'Please help me!' she whispered.

Garl saw her motion but not her words. 'Get back, whore!' he yelled, waving his gun at her face. The woman was cowed and retreated back to her spot by the wall.

Albert turned away from the woman, shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and was suddenly awash with the dirtiest feeling of guilt, shame, and frustration he had ever experienced in his entire life. He doubted Stone felt any better. And judging by Tandi's silence, she had realized the game he was playing and was, undoubtedly, reluctantly playing along. Swallowing his rage, both at himself and at Garl and his raiders, Albert forced a smile and turned to Garl.

'You may want to keep that one around,' he said, feeling dirtier with each passing moment, and hoping Tandi realized the ruse he was playing. 'If Aradesh finds out she's here, he may cough up more dough.' It was the only thing he could think of to keep the woman alive, but as he walked out the doorway, he wondered just what was going on in the woman's mind and what she now thought of him for having said and done what he did.

* * *

><p>The walk back to Ian and Natalia was completely silent, each one wrapped up in his or her own thoughts about what had happened. Natalia got a surprise when they arrived with seeming success but with looks of brooding depression clouding their faces.<p>

As if from some extreme exhaustion, all three fell to the ground and just sat there, each wrapped in his or her own thoughts. Natalia made a move to question them but Ian laid a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. So instead, they all sat in silence, waiting until finally, after what seemed like an hour, Albert brought himself to speak.

'I can't do it,' he said simply.

'Can't do what?' Natalia asked, trying to be gentle.

'That's not a good idea,' said Ian, realizing what Albert was talking about.

'I can't leave her there,' he said.

'Leave who?' Natalia asked.

'You don't have a choice,' said Ian. 'It was Aradesh and Seth's mistake to send women. That's their responsibility, not yours.'

'I _do _have a choice!' Albert insisted. 'And I choose _not _to stand idly by while that bastard rapes and kills another person!'

'What?!' Natalia was bewildered.

'You're being idealistic again,' Ian pointed out.

'Am I?' Albert challenged. 'What would you have done if you saw a man violating a woman and then, when he found out she wasn't the one you were sent after, decided to blow a hole in her head?'

Ian was silent for a long moment. 'I would choose to live,' he said steadily. 'If you go back there, you're dead. And that woman will be no better off than before.'

'She pleaded with me for help,' said Albert, giving a short bitter laugh at himself, 'and I turned away from her.'

'We all did,' said Tandi.

'I'm with Albert,' said Stone, again surprising everyone by actually taking a position.

'I hate to be the one who has to play the cold-hearted bastard here,' said Ian, 'but are none of you thinking about what will happen if you go up against an entire base of raiders?'

'You said they were a sorry bunch,' said Albert.

'They are, but they're also used to fighting and killing, and need I say that they outnumber all of us together at least three to one? And that's _including _Tandi here.'

'Ian may be right,' Natalia said quietly, though it was also clear that she was shaken by the revelation she had just heard from Albert.

'You didn't see what I saw,' Albert shot back. 'And you're a woman! Of all the people, _you _should be the one making a case for this.'

'Don't you dare pull gender on me!' Natalia argued. 'I _know _what it's—' she caught herself at the last moment and took a long breath to calm herself. 'If we go in, it'll be suicide,' she said, lowering her voice. 'Only Ian has any real combat experience. What could the rest of us actually contribute?'

'We have planning, better minds, the element of surprise, and their camp has a lousy layout,' said Albert. 'This isn't just about saving one woman. We just handed Garl a thousand five hundred caps. Now he _knows _that people are willing to pay him to return what he himself has stolen. He's just going to keep doing it now.' He paused and glanced at Tandi, acknowledging her earlier words. 'If we leave things as they are, he wins.'

'That may be true,' said Ian, 'but he wins over Shady Sands. I'm sorry to say this,' he addressed Tandi before turning back to Albert, 'but why are you sticking your neck out for a community that's not even yours? They've paid you what they said they would with the radscorpions, and now they will again for the successful completion of your mission. You don't _owe _them anything.'

'If not Shady Sands or that woman,' said Albert, 'then I owe it to myself. I can't live with myself if I let this atrocity pass. I'm not asking any of you to be a part of this. Ian, you're with us on contract, if I recall correctly, and so far you have taken nothing of your share of the loot. If you wish, I will pay you with whatever I have for your help at Vault-15, and then you may go your own way.' He turned to Natalia. 'And I'm not asking you to do this either. I haven't forgotten our vault. If we don't make it, you're going to be the only one who can continue searching for the chip. This is just something _I _have to do. I know that now.'

'I'm in,' said Stone.

'So am I,' said Tandi, much to everyone's surprise.

'No, you have a different task,' said Albert. 'Run back and tell your father what we're doing. Tell him the ransom was only a short-term solution. The Khans are only going to grow bolder with each success. And with the money from the ransom, they're going to be able to afford better weapons, and that can only be a bad thing for Shady Sands. If Aradesh wants Shady Sands to be safe, he's going to have to make a choice. Either fight for Shady Sands' survival or die trying. The only other alternative is death by attrition. The Khans _need _to go in order for Shady Sands to live. Tell him that.'

Natalia sighed. 'I'm not going to leave you,' she said. 'This is crazy and you know it, but you're also not going to make it with just the two of you. You'll need me if there's going to be the slightest chance of this succeeding.'

'But the vault—' Albert began to protest.

'By _your _logic,' she said, 'the life of this woman and the lives of all those in Shady Sands are just as important as any life in the vault. And while I don't actually believe that, you can't seriously expect me to stand idly by while the two of _you _go rushing headlong into certain death.'

'You're all crazy,' Ian concluded. 'But I'll be damned if the only one who's actually fought raiders before sits on the sidelines while a bunch of idiotic rookies try to take on an entire camp of bandits on their own.'

'So we're all in then,' said Albert.

'Know this, though,' said Ian to Albert, growing dead serious. 'If you do this… even if all of us make it out of this alive… if you kill another human being in cold blood… everything's going to change for you.'

Albert thought back to the woman Garl had raped and then murdered. 'Everything already has,' he said grimly. 'And human beings don't do that to other human beings. The people over there in that camp are _not _human beings. I'll have no trouble putting a bullet into each of their heads.' He turned to Tandi and handed his 10mm pistol to her. 'Take this and get back to Shady Sands as fast as you can. Tell your father what I told you. Even if we don't make it, the hope is going to be that we'll have done enough damage that the Khans will be weakened. If there's anytime to strike against them, this will be it. Your people must _not _waste this opportunity.'

'We need all the guns we have,' Ian pointed out. In response, Albert unslung Natalia's SMG from his back.

'Give me your gun,' he said to Ian, requesting an exchange. 'Here's your first down payment.' He handed over the SMG. 'You're the one who best knows how to fight, so we might as well have our best weapon in your hands. Now we need a plan…'

Diana's tent was closest to the old outhouse and so when the explosion first rocked the camp, she was the first to the scene. Where the old aluminum walls and toilet bowl had been there was now a mess of warped metal, broken porcelain, and a whole lot of shit. In the dark of the night it was especially difficult to identify what was dirt and what was fecal matter that had been blasted all over the place from the explosion.

What on earth could cause their outhouse to explode? Diana was soon joined by three other raiders who stood staring at the hole in the ground where their outhouse had once been, wondering the same thing. They were so preoccupied, in fact, that when the fragmentation grenade landed in the midst of them, Diana only realized what was going on a split second before the grenade exploded, catching all four raiders in its narrow but deadly blast radius.

* * *

><p>Alya had just stepped out the back entrance of the main HQ to see what had cause such a ruckus when the second explosion struck. Though she was standing safely out of the blast radius, Alya was unfortunate enough to see four raider bodies suddenly peppered by metal fragments from a lobbed grenade.<p>

Rushing to the aid of her fallen comrades, Alya, Garl's tactician, made her final and fatal tactical flaw. Her first had been to assume that the Khan camp was imposing enough that no one would ever seek to attack it. Her second had been to line the tents up around the front of the main HQ building rather than equally spacing them around it. Her final had been to rush to the aid of her friends instead of checking where the grenade had come from.

By the time she had realized her mistake, four 10mm rounds had punched into her from behind. Two were partially absorbed by her leather armor. The other two were fatal. One hit the back of her neck, paralyzing her almost instantly. The other lodged into her skull.

* * *

><p>Petrox was just wondering whether he should break protocol and leave his post to investigate the two explosions when half a dozen flares suddenly ignited around the camp; first the two nearest to each other, then the two further away, then the last two just along the outermost perimeter of the camp.<p>

'Tolya! Take the last one!' he called to one of the other raiders from the nearest tent. 'I'll go after the first over here and we'll meet in the middle.' He called to Andy in the other tent. 'Watch the door to the HQ while I check out those flares.'

With the door covered, Petrox switched off the safety to his pistol and sprinted towards the first flare, using the cover of darkness to mask his stealthy strides. It was only when he was relatively near the burning flare that he realized they had been duped. The trail of ash on the ground leading from the first to the second flare told Petrox all he needed to know. Someone had rigged the six flares to go off automatically by connecting them by a long fuse line. Turning back to the main HQ, Petrox saw a short but long-haired man in blue jeans and a black leather jacket sneaking up behind Andy. The man raised what appeared to be a submachine gun to the back of Andy's head. Andy had only just enough time to realize something was amiss when the long-haired man fired a quick burst into the back of Andy's head. At such close proximity, Andy's body jolted away from the gunfire as if a sledgehammer had just connected with his head.

As Tolya watched in horror, Andy's killer lit what looked to be a stick of dynamite with a very short fuse and tossed it into the window of the outer room of the HQ. Two seconds later, one of the other raiders within tried to flee the building through the front entrance. The long haired man, expecting this, kicked the opening door with such force that the raider inside cried out in pain as the door slammed back into his nose. Two holes opened up in the doorway as the raiders within tried to shoot the long haired man through the door but by then he had rolled safely out of the way.

Another second later, the dynamite exploded. And then, at the location of the furthest flare, Tolya came under fire. Petrox was about to rush over to his friend's defense when he noticed that the long-haired man who had killed Andy and possibly the three others inside was now entering the main HQ. Recalling that Garl was still inside, Petrox remembered his duty to his leader and raced in the direction of the HQ, hoping to personally kill the man who had murdered his comrades.

* * *

><p>Diana lay on the ground, only barely conscious, her body bleeding from a multitude of wounds, many of her internal organs lacerated from the grenade's fragments. From where she lay she could see her three fallen brothers. Some were stirring; like her they had suffered fatal injuries but had not yet succumbed to them. From the open doorway of the rear entrance of the HQ, she saw Alya rushing over to her. But over Alya's shoulder Diana spotted a figure standing on the roof of the main building. Diana opened her mouth to scream a warning but she was too weak. Alya had just reached her when the figure on the roof opened fire. Alya stumbled forward as the first two bullets hit her in the back. Then two more hit her above her neck and she collapsed right in front of Diana.<p>

As consciousness began to depart, Diana saw another figure emerge from the darkness. In his hand he held a 10mm Colt. Calmly, he walked over to each of her comrades and put a bullet in each of their heads. He did the same for Alya for good measure. Then he walked up to her and she recognized him. It was the same man who had bought that girl Tandi from them. He gazed at her with what looked like a mixture of hatred and pity. Then she saw the barrel of his gun, a flash of white light, and nothing more.

* * *

><p>Albert looked down at the woman he had just shot. A strange feeling he couldn't place stirred inside him. But it wasn't remorse. And that surprised him. He had just put a bullet into five separate heads and while it did feel strange ending the life of another person, it hadn't felt wrong. Compared to the evil he had seen, no misfortune that befell these raiders seemed wrong.<p>

Albert glanced up at Natalia on the roof. She gave a quick wave, indicating that all was clear for the moment. He made his way to the rear entrance of the house.

The first room was empty and led into that corridor where the two cells were located. He realized that while everything up till that point had been based on taking the raiders by surprise, which had worked wonderfully, this part was going to be trickier. Albert peeked into the corridor. All was silent.

He had just taken the first step in when he felt the cold steel of a knife against his neck. His assailant had come in so quietly behind him that he hadn't even noticed. Albert cursed. Where was Natalia? She was supposed to have watched his back!

'You're going to regret messing with the Khans,' said a female voice. Albert gritted his teeth, preparing for the knife to carve its way through his esophagus, but instead of the feel of his own warm blood pouring out of his neck, his assailant's grip loosened. Seizing perhaps the only chance he had, Albert grabbed the woman's wrist and shoved it away from his neck. Spinning on his heel, Albert raised his gun only to find the raider gurgling from Natalia's own knife that was now slicing across her throat.

But the woman didn't die. She gurgled and spluttered blood from her mouth and the gaping hole in her throat but her struggles only grew more frantic. Natalia lost her cool as the dying raider kept bucking against her, trying to throw her off.

'Oh God!' Natalia swore, half hysterically, as she sawed even deeper into the raider's neck in an effort to still her movements. Blood was gushing out all over the place, drenching Natalia's arm in its warm, crimson coating. 'Die already!' Natalia screamed as she made one final drag along the woman's neck and the woman's struggles finally ceased.

Natalia collapsed to her knees, horrified by what she had just done and by the blood that was now all over the place. 'I couldn't shoot,' she said shakily, more to herself than to him. 'I was afraid of hitting you…'

Albert reached for her knife and gently but firmly pried it from her bloody fingers. Then he directed her to the corner of the room. He was just as appalled by the brutal killing but, he realized, at least had been spared the actual feeling of physically and protractedly killing a person. Taking an old mattress that lay in another corner of the room, he propped it up against the wall, forming a small alcove over Natalia to hide her from plain sight. Then he removed the 10mm from her holster, thumbed the safety off, and placed it in her hands.

'If anyone comes at you who isn't myself, Ian, or Stone,' he said, 'shoot them.'

Knowing that Ian and Stone would be attacking from the front, Albert checked his own gun and then proceeded down the corridor and past the cells. When he got to the main lounge, he found that Garl had already made ample preparations. He and his assistants had barricaded both entrances. In the gloom, Albert could make out the silhouette of a cupboard blocking the main entrance. The one where Albert now stood was obstructed by the very chairs that Albert and Garl had sat upon less than eight hours ago. Peering over the stacked chairs, Albert spotted Garl and his two assistants. They had tipped the queen-sized bed onto its side and, upon seeing Albert, retreated behind it.

'Is that you?' Garl called from behind the bed. From across the room, someone (probably Ian) had started ramming the door from the other side in the hopes of dislodging the cupboard that now blocked off the entire doorway but it wasn't budging. 'I knew you'd be back.'

'Did you?' Albert taunted. 'I've already killed five of your raiders out back and my associates have probably taken care of all the remainder in the front by now.'

'The Khans are defined by strength!' Garl returned. 'If you managed to kill them, then they weren't worth keeping around in the first place. In fact, you've done me a favor. When only the strongest remain, others will see our strength and we will soon have other stronger raiders added to our ranks.'

'That won't be of much use to you if you're dead!' Albert called back. He aimed his gun at the part of the bed where he thought Garl might be taking cover behind and let loose one round.

'Hoo! That was a close one!' Garl shouted, sounding amused. 'I'd be more careful if I were you, though.' Garl emerged from behind the bed holding before him the second woman Albert had left behind earlier. Compared to their earlier meeting, Garl was now attired in some kind of armor crudely made up of polished metal plates. He held the woman in front of him by the neck with one hand while his other clasped his Desert Eagle in its grip. 'How badly do you want her?' he asked. 'That's why you came back, wasn't it? What if I just kill her now? Will you just pack up and go home?'

'Kill her and I'll cut out your intestines and give you a second taste of your lunch!' Albert shot back.

'Good one!' Garl congratulated him. 'Well, how about I just fuck this one in front of you like I did the last one? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Or maybe I'll let one of my assistants here do her. You haven't seen the kind of things my raiders can do when they get to it.'

Albert knew he didn't have many options from where he was standing. There was no way for him to get close enough to Garl this way without exposing himself to gunfire and Garl's ranting could only last for so long. Albert needed to draw him out.

'Do you even realize your position?' Albert called. 'Look who you're hiding behind. A woman!' Silently Albert cursed himself for his sexism, but couldn't think of any other alternative. 'And who are your two most trusted bodyguards? Is that what Garl Death-Hand is all about? A man who's so emasculated he has to hide behind women?'

'I don't need anyone!' Garl growled. Pushing the woman aside, he raised his gun and advanced to Albert's position. Albert managed to get off two rounds before Garl returned fire, forcing Albert to duck down behind the armchairs. Both of Albert's shots connected but, unfortunately, impacted harmlessly against Garl's metal armor. In return, Garl's Desert Eagle punched several large holes into the armchairs Albert was hiding behind. Albert raised his gun without aiming and fired over the chairs, hoping for a lucky shot. Another loud metallic ping told him he had connected, but ineffectively. Then his gun clicked empty and he knew he was screwed.

Albert fled as .44 magnum rounds chopped up bits of the floor and walls around him. He made it back to the previous room where he had left Natalia and took the temporary reprieve to reload. Fortunately, the armchairs had slowed Garl's pursuit, but that only bought him a couple of seconds at best. It appeared his taunts had worked only too well.

Leaning against the wall beside the doorway, Albert prepared for a final show down. He knew he would have to hit Garl in the head for this to work – his body was too well shielded – and he just wasn't sure he could do it. Garl undoubtedly had much more experience shooting and, judging by the sounds of furniture being tossed out of the way, was mere seconds away from proving it.

Just then, Ian burst into the room through the back entrance. He had a gash on one of his arms but otherwise seemed fine if a little out of breath. Albert nearly pulled the trigger in panic but restrained himself at the last moment. He hoped Natalia would practice similar restraint from her hiding place.

'The front door was blocked,' said Ian gasping for breath from his run to the rear entrance.

'Garl! Around the corner!' Albert warned frantically.

Ian nodded. Bending down, he picked up a loose brick lying on the floor and hurled it through the doorway Albert had fled through. The brick clanged noisily against the bars of the nearest cell, creating all the distraction Ian needed. Stepping confidently through the doorway, he raised his SMG, found his mark, and sprayed half a dozen bullets down the corridor. Albert heard a thud from around the corner.

Forcing himself up, Albert followed Ian, more than happy that the experienced caravan guard was present to take the charge. At the far end of the corridor, he saw Garl Death-Hand, slumped against the wall, his entire face a bloody, unrecognizable mess. The leader of the Khans groaned, somehow still alive after having at least three bullets fired through his face. He tried to raise his head but found it too much of a strain. Albert walked up till he was no more than a few feet from the Khan leader. Then he raised his gun and fired three more rounds into the man's head. Garl jerked thrice and then was still.

While Albert was busy with Garl, Ian had gone through the doorway into the main lounge. With the two armchairs having been hurled aside by Garl in his ego-driven haste to kill Albert, there was little obstructing entryway into the lounge except for Garl's two assistants. Before Albert could warn Ian of the two women, the former caravan guard had already strode into the room. Albert heard the chattering of the submachine gun as Ian let out two short but highly controlled bursts of gunfire.

By the time Albert had followed Ian into the room, only the Shady Sands woman was left alive, cowering in the corner behind a small coffee table. As for the two raiders, they, like Garl, had suffered the same grisly fate, their faces gruesomely mangled by high-impact 10mm rounds.

As Albert surveyed the carnage, a heavy object burst through the main door, knocking over the cupboard that had barricaded the entrance and blasting open the door. Both the H&K and Colt came up, fingers a mere hair's length away from pulling their triggers. But when Albert and Ian saw Stone's huge frame stumbling into the room, they relaxed.

'You get them both?' Ian asked.

Stone nodded through gritted teeth. Two bullet wounds lined his shoulder and underarm and he was bleeding profusely. But that didn't stop him from tossing his newest find into the middle of the room with his injured arm. A skinny boy, no older than Natalia, staggered from the momentum and collapsed to the floor. He was dressed in leather armor like most of the other raiders, but it was clear that the armor was too large for him.

'One of them told me where there were keeping the prisoners from the Shady Sands scouting parties. I found this one hiding under a table where they were being held,' Stone said. 'He's unarmed.'

'Where are the scouts now?' said Ian.

'They're making sure there aren't raiders in any of the other buildings in the settlement.'

'Are they armed?'

Stone nodded again. 'I took them to the bodies you and I shot.'

'Smart thinking,' Ian complimented him. 'Now let me take a look at those wounds.' He walked over to Stone and pulled out a stimpak from within his jacket. 'Albert, this was your plan, so you decide what to do with him,' he said to Albert, nodding his head at the boy.

Albert walked up to the boy and aimed his gun at the boy's head.

'You raiders are robbers, murderers, and rapists,' Albert spat. 'You deserve to die.'

'No, not me!' the boy practically screamed. 'I didn't want anything to do with that!'

'You're a Khan, aren't you? Isn't that what you people do to the people you prey on?!' Albert waved his gun menacingly at the boy's face, reveling in the justice he was meting out on those who had caused so much suffering to the people of Shady Sands and the two women in particular.

Then all of a sudden, he caught himself, realizing that he was still projecting the same arrogant, violent demeanor he had constructed earlier in his dealings with Garl. Yet there was no reason for it now. What was he doing? He faltered for a second. But then images of the dead, naked Shady Sands woman re-emerged in his mind and he found his heart hardening again. He pushed the barrel of the gun into the boy's forehead.

'No! Please!' the boy screamed. 'I'm not like them! I just—they just—they just took me in! They just gave me a home!'

'And what? Did they give you some of the spoils?! Let you violate the women they already had their fun with? What did they give you?!'

'N-Nothing! I swear!' The boy was crying now.

Inside, Albert was torn up. He knew now what he was doing. He was terrorizing a boy for the sins of his friends. What if he was wrong? Maybe this boy was innocent. And besides, he was just a boy. A part of Albert's mind impressed upon him the disturbing fact that, just a few seconds ago, he had been as ready to put a bullet in the boy's head as he had with the five raiders out back as well as Garl himself. But then again, this boy was also an accomplice to the atrocities Garl and the rest had committed. Even if he didn't participate, he had supported their actions by his silence and his continued fraternization with them. Could he just be let off? Albert tried to rationalize his thoughts and realized he was having a hard time at it. The small detached part of his mind counted the number of people he had already killed and the fact that he now had a loaded pistol aimed at the head of a teenager. The emotional part of him could not let go of the images of the dead, naked, Shady Sands woman whom Garl had brutalized and then shot in cold blood while his two assistants had just stood by, totally unfazed. Albert ran the thoughts rapidly over in his mind before coming to a decision.

'What's your name?' Albert demanded, but in a slightly less aggressive tone.

'D-Darion,' the boy whimpered.

'You picked the wrong bunch to make friends with, Darion,' Albert said. The boy nodded his head silently, no longer able to look Albert in the eye. 'I don't know where _you're_ from, but those people you called friends came from the same place as the people of Shady Sands. They should have looked out for each other. Instead they preyed on their own community. Pigs like them deserve a fate worse than death.' Again Darion nodded. 'What will you do if I let you go?'

Darion looked up, hope swimming into view in his tear-stained face.

'What will you do!' Albert shouted, making Darion flinch.

'I'll go to back to the Hub! I'll find a job! I'll… I'll work on one of the farms!' Darion said rapidly.

'And you'll never associate with raiders every again!' said Albert. Darion nodded his head frantically. 'If you do, mark my words: someone just like me will come along again, and this time, he won't be so nice!'

'I'll change!' Darion insisted. 'I'll live a good honest life! I promise! Thank you! _Thank you_!'

Albert lifted his gun from Darion's head. 'Now get out!' he said. 'I never want to see you around here_ or _Shady Sands. Ever!'

With a last nod, Darion fled through the doorway.

'I'll take over,' Albert said to Ian, who had already administered the stimpak to Stone and was now bandaging his wounds. 'You'd better follow him and make sure those other scouts you and Stone found don't kill him on sight.'

'Where's Natalia?' Ian asked as he made to leave.

'She's shaken but safe,' said Albert.

'We're all lucky sons of bitches. You know that, right?' said Ian before leaving.

'Really?' Albert replied, thinking back over everything that had happened and everything he had done now that the adrenaline in his veins had run its course. He looked thoughtfully at the gun in his hands before holstering it. 'I'm not so sure anymore.'


	8. Chapter 7: Reflections

Short chapter. I really wanted to move on to Junktown and leave behind that rather dark chapter a wrote just before this. But, of course, it wouldn't have made sense to just jump back into lighter things. So this chapter is aimed at having the characters deal with some of those demons, post-gunfight.

The next chapter will also _not _be about Junktown, unfortunately. You'll find out why in this chapter.

**Chapter Seven: Reflections**

Albert found her where he had left her. She hadn't moved an inch. The gun was still held tightly in her hands as if rigor mortis had set in. Her arms were caked in dry blood and her face was wet with tears but she was too far in shock to actually cry. Albert pushed the mattress aside and sat down on the ground next to her. He took out a spare set of bandages from his utility belt, poured some of Garl's whiskey onto it and proceeded to clean the blood from her arms, hands, fingertips. She neither helped nor hindered him.

Albert cursed himself for not having seen this coming. Unlike himself and Stone, she had never gotten that initial emotionally traumatic experience to galvanize her resolve against the raiders. Albert and Stone had gotten the best aide of all: they had witnessed the dehumanizing acts committed by Garl and endorsed by his fellow raiders. That had made payback not easy but entirely doable – frighteningly so, Albert realized in retrospect. He knew his own personal time for brooding over what he had seen and experienced was just around the corner. But for now, the sight of the feisty, precocious, intelligent, gifted young woman reduced to a petrified young girl shocked out of her mind reminded him of just how young she was. Then again, he wondered if he would have been able to kill the raider the way she had done it. Pulling a trigger was one thing. Sawing through a person's neck while she struggled with every remaining ounce of strength to fight you off was something else entirely.

Reaching his arm around her shoulder, Albert pulled Natalia toward him and allowed her to lean her head against his chest. They sat like that for what seemed like at least a half hour while Stone and Ian helped secure the area surrounding the camp and liaised with the scouts from the Shady Sands patrols whom they had found and helped liberate from a makeshift prison the Khans had constructed in the nearby settlement beside the road.

'I was an idiot,' Albert said eventually, both to her and himself. 'I should never have brought you along. You didn't even _want _to come. All I was thinking about was making Garl and his raiders pay for what he had done to that woman. It wasn't even _really _about Shady Sands. I convinced myself it was but it wasn't. Not really. I wanted Garl to pay, and I stupidly got all of you involved in order to do it.'

'I want to go home,' she said in a small voice.

Albert closed his eyes. They needed her on the team. While he was more learned and well-read, there was little doubt in his mind that she was the brains and intuition of the group. But this had been his fault and now it was up to him to set things right… at least as far as it was within his control. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

'We'll do that,' he said. 'Once we've restocked our supplies at Shady Sands, we'll head back to Vault-13.'

In his mind, Albert's prospects for the mission for the water chip took a sudden plunge. Only now did he realize just how much he valued an informed and intelligent second opinion to decisions he had made for the group thus far. If they lost her, he would be on his own. Ian didn't know enough about the vault and its needs to advise him on those matters. Stone could provide the muscle but Albert couldn't count on him for tactical appraisal.

_Somehow_, he said to himself. Somehow they would have to manage without her. Albert lifted his PIPBoy and brought up the map of California and Nevada. He highlighted the two locations of Shady Sands and Junktown and requested a distance mapping. The shortest route by road, it seemed, would be via a zigzagging pass that ran through the mountains northwest of Death Valley – 176 miles. Then he added an extra detour point to Vault-13. To his surprise, the distance _with _the detour only increased by fifteen miles. He realized it was the because of all the zigzagging in the route from Shady Sands to Junktown that the difference wasn't all that great.

Fifteen miles was less than a day's worth of extra travel. The realization didn't give him any extra hope of finding other locations that might have spare water purification chips nor did it lessen the impact that they were about to lose a vital asset to their team, but at least it helped mitigate the worry that a detour would have robbed them of precious time.

* * *

><p>Once Ian, Stone, and the scouts had made sure that there were no other stragglers, the entire lot of them began scavenging the raiders' camp for everything usable that they could take with them on the journey back to Shady Sands. Aside from the weaponry, most of the other things in the raiders' camp had once belonged to the people of Shady Sands anyway. As the ones responsible for the successful attack on the Khans, the vault dwellers and Ian got first pick of the equipment. While Ian preferred to stick with his submachine gun and mainly claimed payment in terms of the caps accumulated from the pockets of most of the raiders' bodies and extra ammunition for the SMG, the rest replaced their 10mm Colts with the few Desert Eagles they found. Their old weapons they handed over to the people of Shady Sands. In an old refrigerator that had long since run out of coolant, Stone even found a double-barreled 12-gauge Winchester Widowmaker shotgun which he readily added to his arsenal.<p>

There were also enough undamaged or minimally damaged suits of leather armor to go around between them. Garl's metal armor was too good to pass up and Ian recommended Albert wear it since, above all, it fit him the best, and, second, as the rest of the group decided unanimously, he was to be the spokesperson for the rest in future group-related issues, and that meant looking as physically imposing as possible. The suit was too bulky to carry around, so it had to be worn. Reluctantly Albert donned Garl's armor, but despite his self-consciousness, no one could deny that it performed its task well. While crudely formed, the upper-body suit of armor immediately granted to Albert the same kind of imposing quality it had given Garl. In addition to catching the glint of the sun, it had wide shoulder pads with a row of three wicked looking spikes jutting out from one of them. It was slightly ostentatious and would attract attention but everyone agreed that if there ever were to be a time when Albert needed to assert himself in a negotiation, the armor could only help his chances. Then of course there was the more obvious defensive benefit it provided which even Albert could not deny, having conducted a personal firing test on it while it had still been on Garl.

Aside from the equipment, they also found the bodies of those whom Garl had executed in a mass grave some distance from the main camp, including the woman he had killed in front of Albert and Stone. In their current state, it would be impossible to carry three more bodies all the way back to Shady Sands between the lot of them, so the group of vault dwellers and Shady Sands scouts cleaned the bodies as best they could and interred them in separate, freshly dug graves. One of the scouting party who had some Hindu background but whose ancestors had lived in America for generations gave a short syncretic eulogy that combined traditional Western-Christian burial service procedures with Hindu content. No one seemed to mind. Then the graves were filled with dirt and the vault dwellers, Ian, and the villagers of Shady Sands prepared to leave the camp.

With each person carrying as much as he or she could, the three vault dwellers, Ian, and the remainder of the scouts began the trek back to Shady Sands. Of the three scouting parties sent out from Shady Sands, about half of them (including the women Garl had abused and then killed) had been executed by the Khans. Another half of the remainder had suffered some kind of torture, meaning that the journey back to Shady Sands would be significantly slower and more arduous than the one from it had been.

When they were almost a day-and-a-half's' journey from the village, they were met by none other than another party sent from Shady Sands, this time larger than any one of the scouting parties sent before and led by Seth. Tandi, it appeared, had succeeded in convincing her father and Seth to send aid. While the reinforcements weren't needed to storm the camp thanks to the thorough work the vault dwellers and Ian had done on it, the extra manpower afforded and equipment provided by this second party meant that makeshift stretchers could be constructed for the most seriously injured and the journey back to Shady Sands could be expedited.

They finally arrived back at Shady Sands just after noon the next day. There was an undeniable surge of relief, gratefulness, and even astonishment at the news that the Khans had been effectively wiped off the map. The news of the deaths were devastating and even the usually sprightly Tandi was sobered for the rest of the day by the knowledge that many of those who had lost their lives had done so in the search for her.

Aradesh, of course, was unashamedly grateful for their success in bringing his daughter back, though he was disturbed by the knowledge of what had happened and of his mistake in sending women along in the scouting parties. How he would deal with the notion that many of the scouts who had lost their lives did so on account of his and Seth's commands, the vault dwellers would never know, but, at least concerning themselves, he was more than ready to reward their "courage and bravery" (as he kept repeating about them over dinner) with more logistical supplies for their trip, first to Vault-13, then to Junktown.

The ransom that the vault dwellers had retrieved from Garl was turned over to them instead by Aradesh who felt that they deserved all of it. After all, they had not only rescued Tandi where his own poor and desperate decision-making had failed but had also eliminated one of the three primary human threats to Shady Sands. Never in his entire life had he ever thought the Khans would completely cease to be a threat to his village. Now it was not only a conceivable possibility but a reality.

At his insistence, the vault dwellers agreed to stay another day to allow Ian and Stone a little more time to recuperate from their physical injuries before setting off for Vault-13.

* * *

><p>The next day saw Natalia wandering through the crop fields, lost in thought. It was hours before Ian found her sitting by the town well, staring blankly over the acres of farmland and the villagers busy harvesting. It was strange for her, seeing maize getting harvested in December, but apparently these mutated cornstalks had different harvest cycles than the pre-War ones.<p>

Ian sat down beside Natalia by the well and handed her her Desert Eagle.

'You left it at home again,' he said.

'I don't want it,' she said without shifting her gaze. 'I just want to go home.'

'Natalia, you may not realize it yet, but you did a good thing. You helped save a lot of lives that day. You saved that girl from a life of sexual abuse. And from what I hear, you saved Albert's life as well.'

'If it's so good, why does it feel so bad?' Natalia replied, turning her face to Ian. Her voice was steady but her cheeks were tear-stained. 'I…' she stopped to give a short self-derisive laugh, 'I shot a woman in the back, and then I slaughtered another one like I would have a chicken.'

'Listen. Those raiders had no honor. They would have done the same or worse to you.'

'Does that make it right?'

'Natalia, in this world, there is no right. There is only the living and the dead. You did what anyone interested in survival would have done given the same situation. These are the rules of the world we live in.'

'The rules _you _live in,' Natalia corrected. 'I want no part of it.'

Ian was silent.

'I'm sorry,' she corrected herself. 'That came out mean.'

Ian shook his head, dismissing the need for an apology. 'I understand what you're going through. I was brought up in the wasteland, but even then I still had my share of issues when I was first forced to kill a person.'

'Can we…. Can we _not _talk about killing?' said Natalia.

'Alright. But know this. You may have done things you're not proud of and even feel terrible about right now. But there are people who owe their lives to you because of it. _Good _people. Not raiders who prey on defenseless people but hardworking villagers trying to make a living for themselves out here in the wasteland. And not just them but Albert, and Stone, and myself. We worked as a team. If any one of us had faltered, we could all have been dead now. I don't begrudge your desire to go back to your vault, but let me provide you with this perspective: it's because of the actions of people like you, not always done willingly or even by choice, that makes this wasteland livable by people who can't fight for themselves as well. If you go back to your vault and choose to stay, this new world, that's struggling to build itself up from the ashes of war, loses one more good thing about it.'

* * *

><p>While Natalia was wandering through the cornfields, Albert and Stone sat by the brahma pens, each with a bottle of whiskey in hand. While Albert had never really had much of a conversation with Stone before, nor were they having one now, their common traumatic experience at the Khans' base had developed an unspoken sense of solidarity between them. They had gone into the belly of the beast together, seen its innards, escaped together, and then come back to rip the creature's head off its body. It was a bonding experience if nothing else.<p>

They weren't sitting for long when they were shortly joined by Tandi who had just returned with a herd of brahma she had taken out for grazing. She threw herself down on the dusty ground beside them.

'Hi. I was afraid that you had all left and I wasn't going to get a chance to thank you properly for rescuing me.'

'You're welcome,' said Albert. He stopped there as the memories of both the fight and the events that had led up to it replayed in his mind. He was sure all three of them were thinking about the same thing.

'Could I have some of that?' Tandi said to break the silence, nodding at their bottles.

'Aren't you a little young for that?' Albert asked.

'No such rule here,' she said.

'Your dad probably wouldn't be too happy if he found out we were getting drunk with his daughter… uh, no innuendo intended.'

'Are you kidding? You guys have been immortalized in my dad's eyes. If he could build a shrine, he'd probably do it. Besides, I need it as much as you do.'

'Not quite as much,' said Albert, wincing almost visibly at the memory of the girl who had died at the hands of Garl.

'Her name was Moira,' said Tandi, guessing Albert's thoughts. 'She was orphaned years ago when raiders attacked her family not too far from Shady Sands. Seth's guards drove them off but it was too late for the rest of her family. Look, I didn't see the same things you did, but I heard what was going on, and I can guess what happened. How do you think _I_ feel, knowing that more than half a dozen people died because they were out trying to rescue me?'

'You seem to be taking it well,' Albert observed.

'There's two ways to go about looking at it that I can see,' she replied. 'Either I can kill myself with guilt over something that none of us had any control over, or I can see their sacrifice as giving me a second chance to make a difference. Those people died because they believed in community and the importance and value of its members. I can make sure their sacrifice wasn't in vain.'

'How?' Stone asked.

'I'm going to help my dad build up this place. I've been around his work long enough to know the various things that go on in this village. And I've spoken to practically every merchant who's ever visited Shady Sands. I know what it could take for us to grow as a community and I can make sure that it happens. I'm going to turn this villager into a city where people will no longer have to worry about things like radscorpions and raiders and food shortages.'

'That's quite an ambitious goal,' Albert commented. 'Here.' He handed her his bottle. 'At least one of us came out the better from all this.' With that, he got up, dusted the sand from his back, and turned to depart, leaving Stone and Tandi to themselves. They watched him depart, knowing something was on his mind but deciding not to pressure him about it.

Left to himself, Albert wandered aimlessly around the outskirts of Shady Sands. He was still waiting for any kind of emotional reaction to the notion that he had executed six people during that attack on the Khan camp that night. He had walked up to six injured people, and put six bullets into six heads. He was still surprised how he had managed to do it so mechanically and coldly. Yet they had all deserved it. The memory of the woman named Moira kept replaying itself in his mind, and every time it did, even the prospect of feeling remorse for the six people he had killed fled like the remnants of a dream. That wasn't what troubled him.

His issue was a different one from Natalia's. Garl had done things Albert had never in his wildest imagination thought he would ever encounter in the wasteland. Separately, they were all despicable things – theft, kidnap, rape, murder – but they were all notions with which Albert was familiar. Put together, they made Garl out to be the monster he really was. And all that was terrible. But, ultimately, it still made sense. What gnawed at Albert was, instead, the transition between the rape and the murder. There was no rational sense to that. Even from the standpoint of a sex-starved rapist it made no sense. There was only one answer Albert could come up with and it was one that left him feeling deeply uneasy: Garl had killed Moira simply because Albert and Stone had been there while he was in the middle of the act. There was no other reason Albert could think of. Garl had simply wanted to make a statement to his 'guests', whether to live up to his reputation or to send a message to them. But either way, it made no logical sense to Albert and that shook him to his very core. Was Garl mad? Or was this what post-nuclear life would do to you? And was executing people the first step down that path?

Albert ran his fingers down the side of the Desert Eagle holstered at his hip. It felt so natural sitting there now, so much so that he was surprised just how easily he had been ignoring the weight. He remembered what it had been like two weeks ago when they had first left Vault-13. Back then he hadn't even known how to put on a holster. Now the five-pound sidearm felt like a part of his body.

He stopped in mid-walk to get his bearings. A short way's away, he spotted some of the people of Shady Sands tending to the crop fields. These people lived in a world where violence visited them every other day. If it wasn't food shortages, it was radscorpions. If it wasn't radscorpions, it was raiders. Violence was a part of their lives that they seemed to have come to terms with. Maybe this really _was _what post-nuclear life was like. And yet… Albert paused as the realization hit him. The people of Shady Sands now had two problems less – two _big _problems less – and it was all because of what he and the other vault dwellers and Ian had done. That added a whole new complication into the already unmanageable jumble of thoughts that spiraled through his confused mind. What was right and what was wrong? Was there even a way to evaluate them? Albert didn't know how to deal with it all. With or without the whiskey, he was at a loss.

He sighed. Today's walk wasn't going to be enough to help him work out his problems. At least there was _one _thing that he could count on for certain. They were all going home.


	9. Chapter 8: Expansion

A small break from the main plot.

Next chapter: Junktown

**Chapter Eight: Expansion**

Almost three weeks after having first left, the vault dwellers were back. None of them were looking forward to the first uncomfortable reunion with the people in the Vault. In fact, when they first accessed the control panel to the outer vault door and spoke with the Overseer, it was almost physically painful to hear the change in his tone when they told him they didn't have the chip yet. But it wasn't their present failure that got them worried that he might not let them in. Instead, it turned out to be Ian's presence. The Overseer was almost irrationally reluctant to let an outsider in. It was only after repeatedly emphasizing the help Ian had been since Shady Sands that the Overseer finally open the doors for them.

Once in, they were told to report directly to the CCC without taking any detours to give the Overseer a full account of the status of their mission. The Overseer's surprise and disapproval only grew when he saw the state they were in: covered in desert dust, bedraggled hair, dressed in non-vault-issue clothing… Even though the vault security guards had temporarily relieved them of their weapons upon their entry, the hip holsters that now hung empty by their sides showed just how different they now looked in contrast to the average vault dweller. The Overseer looked especially cynically at Albert's half-suit of metal armor that now sat beside his pack. The armor looked mean and aggressive and even Albert had to admit to himself that it seemed to be totally out of place to the spartan, tranquil, clean environment of the Vault; he was glad he had taken it off before they had entered the Vault.

Once the Overseer had had his fill of visually scrutinizing everything about them that had changed, he allowed them to give him their report. They told him of the state Vault-15 was in and that the people of Shady Sands had been kind enough to direct them to the two other settlements, Junktown and the Hub, where they might look for further clues. When they asked the Overseer if the Vault had records of other vaults in the Sierra Nevada region, however, he told them that it had never been equipped with those records.

The Overseer became significantly more concerned when they informed him about the raiders and how they had helped Shady Sands in exchange for supplies and information. They left out the fact that they had almost completely wiped out the Khans; the purpose, after all, was not to tell the Overseer how violent the whole situation had been but to explain to him that Natalia had suffered enough mental and emotional shock that she needed to recover in the safety of the Vault. Saying that last part was particularly hard for Albert, especially when the Overseer seized on that news to re-emphasize his claims that the outside world was far too dangerous for Vault-13's residents to move out. Albert let it slide for the time being. His mind had stashed away everything that had happened at the Khans' camp and was now begging for catharsis. How to negotiate his desire to give the other vault dwellers' the right and freedom to leave with his realization of just how screwed up the world outside had become? Albert didn't have an answer. He never did, really, but the issue had only just now become a serious one for him.

After personally giving Ian a warning that he had to be with one of the three vault dwellers at all time so long as he remained within the walls of Vault-13, the Overseer released them from their debriefing. Albert assured the Overseer that Stone, Ian, and himself would stay no more than three days before setting out for their next location.

* * *

><p>Albert was one of the few vault dwellers who had been given a room of his own, and that was primarily because of his former counseling role. He had been half afraid the Overseer had given it up to someone else once he left. But it was still there, just the way he had left it. At least there was a plus side to the Overseer's protectiveness: when he said he thought it was safer for the vault dwellers to remain in the Vault, he meant <em>everybody<em>, including people like Albert who fought against him head-to-head about the whole issue to begin with.

Safely in the privacy of his room, Albert set his pack and armor down and was about to throw himself on the bed when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He quickly dusted his hair with his hand and was fascinated to see the dust particles clearly highlighted in the bright overhead fluorescent lights; there was no way he was going to touch his bed before he had taken a long hot shower. With that thought, he came to the stunning realization that it had been nineteen days since his last shower. Sure, he had patted himself down with a wet cloth with the limited supply of water the residents of Shady Sands had given them each day, but that was nowhere near a proper shower.

After stripping out of his clothing, Albert was about to dump them into the auto-receptacle for dirty clothes when he realized that these weren't the standard-issue vault suits. The people working down in the laundry room probably wouldn't touch these. So instead, he brought his dusty clothes onto the floor in the shower, prepared to clean them by hand.

He took off his PIPBoy and set it on the bathroom cabinet. Taking the water ration card the Overseer had given each one of them, he scanned the barcode. The readout that appeared showed him how many gallons of water he had left for the day. The PIPBoy detected the computer chip in the plumbing and electronically opened the valve, allowing water into the bathroom faucets. Albert activated the shower knobs and was greeted by a spray of deliciously warm water. It was the most wonderful sensation he had felt since leaving – almost as if the stresses of the wasteland were getting washed off his body along with the dirt and dust.

A sound caught his attention, and Albert whirled, snatching his knife from where it lay on the shower rack. The woman yelped and he stopped himself from slicing her throat only just in time. Theresa stood there, eyes bulging at the weapon in his hand, and it was only then that Albert realized that he had instinctively taken a weapon with him into a Vault bathroom. Had he become that paranoid?

'I am so sorry!' he said, putting the knife aside and grabbing the nearby towel to quickly cover himself up before coming to her and holding her shoulders gently. 'Are you alright? How did you get in? I locked the door.'

'I still have your pass code,' she said, still shaken.

'But what are you doing here?'

'Natalia's playing the host to your friend Ian. I thought I should give them some privacy to talk.'

Albert frowned at her, reading her intentions. 'He's got to be at least fifteen years older. _And _he's already got someone.'

'Oh… well, in that case maybe they'll just have a meaningful conversation. That's not the real reason I left them there.'

'What is it, then?'

'I walked into your bathroom while you were taking a shower. Can't you guess?' Theresa pulled him close and kissed him full on the lips. Albert's reaction showed he was taken off guard, but he didn't resist, and it didn't take long for him to respond with as much enthusiasm.

After a long while, Theresa broke the kiss. 'I've missed you _so much_,' she said breathlessly before pulling him in again for an even longer kiss.

* * *

><p>'She didn't have to leave,' said Ian as Natalia offered him a chair in her room.<p>

'I think it was less to give us privacy than it was to have some alone-time with Albert before you crash in his room.'

'Is that where I'll be staying?'

'It seems to be the only option that doesn't involve going back to the Overseer and asking for a room just for you. I'm here with Theresa and Stone shares a room with another vault dweller… Albert's the only one of the three of us who has his own room and a spare bed.'

'Ah, I see.'

The two shared a moment of awkward silence.

'We could probably use a shower,' said Natalia, before abruptly realizing what she had just said. 'I mean…' she grimaced at herself, 'do you want to take a shower first? It's just through that door.'

'I can probably wait till I get to Albert's room,' said Ian. 'You go ahead.'

Stone's parents were more than surprised to see him when he showed up outside their room door just as they were about to go to their respective career assignments.

'The Overseer didn't tell us anything!' his mother exclaimed after she had shared a long hug with her son. Stone winced and she pulled away, horrified at the bandages around his left shoulder and underarm. 'You're hurt! What happened?'

'It's nothing,' Stone assured them, gently pushing his mother away from inspecting the wound. 'I got them when we saved some people from a bunch of thugs.'

'Thugs?' His father was surprised. 'What do you mean?'

'It's a long story,' said Stone. 'Maybe I could explain it to you after you get back from work today.'

'You're probably right,' said his father. 'We have all the time in the world now.'

'I…' Stone said uncomfortably.

'What is it?' asked his mother.

'I'm sorry,' said Stone. 'We're not staying long.'

* * *

><p>Albert stroked the smooth skin of Theresa's shoulder and planted a kiss on it as they lay in bed.<p>

'Considering how you've had the code to this room all this while and how often you've actually been here, how is it we're only doing this now?' he said.

Theresa turned so she was facing him. 'It's because you were always all about work – all about developing our plans for the outside world… And I guess it's also because I've never had the guts to barge in on you while you were naked before.'

'It worked. What caused the change?'

'I… I've missed you. Really,' Theresa said. 'These past three weeks have made me realize just how much I've grown accustomed to just… being near you. And Natalia told me you're not going to be here long, and I…' She hesitated.

'What is it?'

'Take me with you,' she said, her voice growing firm.

'I'm not sure—'

'I can't live in this place anymore,' she said. 'I thought I could until we had all our plans in place but… it hasn't been the same for the group without you here to lead them. It hasn't been the same for _me_.'

Albert sighed. 'We'd need to find someone else to shepherd the group. And, besides, the Overseer would never allow it.'

'He would if we stage a revolt.'

'Wh-what?' Albert couldn't believe his ears.

'Many of us weren't happy that the Overseer sent you out on your own—without any of _us_, I mean. We figured if he could send the three of you out, there should be no reason keeping any of the rest of us in against our wills. So we've slowly been gathering information on the guards' patrols, the kind of computer systems we would need to control to get the security doors and outer door open, and where to get the supplies we'd need to survive on the outside.

'Theresa, rushing out like this… this isn't what we talked about.'

'No, but we're under pressure now. You don't heard it, but you can see people are starting to get worried. A few of us have asked how long our water supplies will last but the Overseer won't tell us. He just keeps saying it will be long enough for you to get the chip. Before too long, people are going to start doing irrational things.'

'Even so, you have to realize that life on the outside is far—'

Albert was cut off by a knock on the door.

'Albert, are you in there?' he heard his father's voice coming through the door. 'We heard you had come back.'

Albert gave a big sigh. He had been deliberately avoiding this. 'I'm not sure if I'm ready for this yet,' he said, hesitant to face his parents. They had, after all, been his primary reason for starting the group and working to give the vault dwellers the freedom to leave if they so choose. But after what he had seen out there… He just wasn't ready. He needed to set his mind straight first.

'You'll be fine,' Theresa assured him. 'Just come to our next meeting. Five o'clock, my room.'

* * *

><p>'No family pictures,' Ian commented when Natalia had reemerged from the bathroom. 'Almost no proof you <em>have <em>any family.'

'I'd rather… not talk about that, if it's alright with you,' said Natalia. 'So what do you think of this place?'

'The Vault? Heard about some of these places before, but never actually been in one till now. Seems nice and clean…' Natalia gave him a cynical look. 'A little too clean for my tastes,' he added. 'Are you sure this is what you want?'

'It's safe here,' she said. At that moment they heard a knock on the door. 'Who is it?' said Natalia.

'It's me,' came a voice that was all too familiar to Natalia. Ian watched intently at the look of surprise on Natalia's face.

'D-Dad?' she said. 'What are you doing here?' She was still speaking through the intercom on the door. 'If security finds you here…'

'I know,' came the reply. 'I just… I never got the chance to see you off and I just… can we talk face-to-face?'

'That's not a good idea,' Natalia replied. A brief silence that felt like minutes ensued.

'Please, Natalia,' her father persisted. She heard muffled voice from further down the corridor addressing her father. 'It's alright, I'm going,' said her father to the newcomer. 'I just wanted to say hello to my daughter.'

Natalia and Ian heard the fading sound of her father's footsteps, replaced by those of the newcomer. A few seconds later, there came another knock on the door.

'I'm okay,' Natalia called out. 'He didn't try to force… he didn't try to get through the door.'

'Alright,' came the voice through the intercom. 'We're still tuned into your PIPBoy's frequency. If he tries anything, you just let us know.'

'I will.'

When the security guard had left, Natalia cast a tentative glance in Ian's direction.

'You don't have to explain anything,' said Ian. 'But just keep the question I asked you earlier in mind: is this life really what you want?'

'I…'

'Don't tell _me _the answer. You don't owe me anything. Whether you stay or leave should rest entirely on how it's going to affect you.'

'Alright. Thank you, Ian.'

'Now. Why don't you show me around the Vault while we wait for Albert and Theresa to finish up?'

* * *

><p>That evening, while the majority of the other vault dwellers were having their dinner, Albert, clean, shaven, and dressed back in vault attire, sat in the Overseer's office sipping brandy from a stash reserved only for overseers.<p>

'Enjoy it,' said the Overseer. 'No one's going to be making it anymore.'

'So you said you said there were some internal issues you needed to talk with me about. If it's regarding Theresa, I already know about the meetings.'

'Then you know that we can't afford to have a mutiny.'

'I know, and I'll speak with her and the rest tomorrow. But on one condition.'

'Here we go,' the Overseer gave a rueful laugh.

'Let me take two of them with me. You don't need to send them armed or with anything other than food and water supplies. It'll be cheaper for you in the long run in terms of water rationing. _And _it'll get at least one problem out of your hair.'

'And what problem is that?'

'I'll take Theresa with me.'

'Ah, I see.' The Overseer stroked his short grizzled beard. 'You realize, though, that the more people I let out, the more will want to go.'

'I'll speak to them. But look at it this way. Natalia's out. We _need _more members. And three of us isn't always enough. Take this for example: with more members, Stone and I wouldn't have had to make this detour back; some of us could have escorted her here while the others went ahead with the search. You give us more people, you have fewer potential mutineers, more rations to go around, and more manpower to look for the chip. It's a win-win.'

'Why can't you just convince Natalia to go back out with you? Isn't that what you're good at, after all?'

'Natalia's seen things that have been… a little overwhelming.'

'Like what?'

Albert paused to collect his thoughts. 'Look, I know why you sent her out with Stone and me. I know what happened between her and her father three years ago and now you're worried that the news of what happened will leak and you'll have some publically declaring that it wouldn't have happened if you had just let Alexei leave when he had wanted to.'

'It wasn't the right time. We only do this once every five years. You know this. We had just sent Ed out a few months prior.'

'Ed's dead. We brought his bones in for cremation when we arrived.'

'Which goes to show that we can't just send out anyone who wants to leave. They need to have years of training and even that won't be enough. You know that too.'

'Well, regardless, you're just going to have to deal with both Natalia and her father, I guess. I can't force her out there again. Not after what she's been through.'

'What _has _she been through?'

'I'll leave you two to talk that one out if she feels up to it. In the meantime, you've heard my condition. I need the manpower.'

The Overseer nursed his brandy for a long moment, staring off into space as he weighed his options. Finally, he let the glass part from his lips. 'You make a good case,' he eventually conceded with a sigh. 'Alright. Two—'

'Of my choosing.'

'From your group, I take it.'

'Yes.'

'But I want to be guaranteed the cooperation of the people in your group here in the Vault. I don't want any more of this unrest. All it does is fuel the anxiety of the rest of the Vault. The last time around, your people were almost up in arms when they found out I had let all three of you.'

'That's because you pushed us off without warning. It would have been different if you had allowed me to address them before then. We both know you chose to send me out because you thought it would pacify the group here. Well, now you know that it's not me that's fueling these interests to leave. These are decisions the people themselves want to be able make.'

'That's not the point. And we've talked about this before so we're just going to be wasting our time if we get back into this now. Here's _my _condition: I want one of my guards to co-lead the group once you leave.'

'Not possible,' Albert replied immediately. 'The group's been with me and Theresa for too long. They'll never allow it. You'll end up having more problems than you do now. But I can do this much. I'll allow your person to join the group… officially. That way, you don't have to keep trying to secretly infiltrate the group to make sure we're not concealing some insurrectionist plan.'

'Alright,' the Overseer responded. 'But just remember. If you _are _trying to undercut me, and if we do actually end up having a riot, this Vault will be on a one-way trip down to its own self-destruction. And from what you've told me of Vault-15, you already know what happens then. I'm trusting you in this. Don't abuse that trust.'

* * *

><p>Half an hour before the actual meeting the next afternoon, Natalia and Theresa's room was already filled to overflowing. Some people were even standing in the bathroom and peering out through the doorway. Theresa waited till five after before starting.<p>

'Thank you all for coming again,' she announced to the room. 'As some of you already know, we have been paid a visit by none other than Albert and his team. Doubtless, you all have many questions for them and, unlike our Overseer, we are here to give you all the answers we can.

'We will not lie to you or seek to artificially raise your hopes. The water chip still has _not _been found. And that is through no fault of Albert and his team. The world outside is a big place and the chances of finding such a specific piece of equipment are slim. But we already knew this before. And we know that if we're going to have any chance of survival, we must move soon.

'As you all know, our plans are moving forward. I have been told that we will soon have access to the gear we need. In addition, we are gathering more to our side every week. Very soon we may have to find a _new _meeting place.' There was some congenial laughter, especially from those standing in the bathroom. 'There is strength in numbers and soon, the Overseer will not be able to oppose us. But even as we strive towards this goal, we must also be patient. The time will come for us to take our freedom if the Overseer still wishes to oppress us. But now is not yet the time, and I urge you, once again, not to do anything to jeopardize our chances until then. Make no trouble for anyone; behave as you have always behaved; keep practicing your outdoor skills in the simulators. The time is close at hand. We will only need to wait a few more weeks before we are ready. Then we will at last be free of the Vault and the Overseer.

'Now, since Albert will only be with us for a few days before the Overseer once again sends him out, it would seem to be a waste not to learn from the experiences he has already had. Albert, perhaps you can give us some advice before our move to the outdoors as well.'

As Albert stood, he was greeted with a roar of applause. He smiled, but it wasn't the self-confident smile he had worn on all the previous meetings he had led before. He waved down the applause.

'Thank you all for your enthusiasm and support,' he began. 'It is extremely encouraging to learn that, even in my absence, you have all not only stayed true to our purpose and vision but also have managed to convince your family and friends and relatives to join our cause.' Albert gave the room a quick scan. 'There must easily be more than twice the number of people now than there was when I was still here. Any doubts any of you ever had about what might happen in my absence should now be laid to rest. You are clearly self-motivated people who have decided to take charge of your own lives. To that end, myself and Theresa are only here to help you along. _You_ are the agents for change in this vault.' Another roar of applause.

'Myself and Natalia and Stone, whom you all know, have been out there on the surface for the past three weeks. And some of you have probably already met and spoken to our new companion, Ian. If you haven't seen him yet, you soon will. He's the one with the very stylish hair.' Those who had actually already seen the long-haired former caravan guard chuckled knowingly.

'Now, we have learnt a few things from our time outside that I wish to share with you all.' The room fell to complete silence. 'The world outside… is very different from anything you or I or the computer simulations could ever have predicted. There are new and amazing things out there in the outside world that you have to see to believe. There are _also_ new and terrible dangers. And I know you've all been going through the same simulations I went through for years, so I know we're all on the same page when I say this: those simulations are not sufficient. The only reason myself and Natalia and Stone are here with you today is luck. Plain and simple. I hate to admit it, but if we hadn't been fortunate enough to meet Ian, it's very possible none of us would be alive today.

'Don't get me wrong. I believe, as do many of you, that the outside world _is_ our future. As those of you who have been with us from the start know full well, it is simply not possible for us to live here, sheltered and protected, generation after generation. Even if we managed to find a replacement chip, that chip would eventually break down. And then the next. So we clearly can't stay here forever. As Theresa has no doubt been reminding all of us: we need proper preparations before we can make an exodus from the Vault feasible. And on your parts, I know you have patiently and diligently been doing everything you can to prepare yourself. But now I am also saying this: give _us _more time. I know you are all eager to leave and from the sounds of it, you are nearly there. But let me be perfectly honest: it will not be enough. Not yet. You can strip the Vault clean of all its weapons and stores but if you haven't faced the realities of the wasteland,' Albert paused on the last word – it was the first time he had used the negative term in their presence – 'the only thing that will save you is luck. You will need people who have already been out there.'

'Then lead us! We'll learn everything you can teach us!' a man in the crowd yelled to the raucous agreement of everybody else. Albert waited for the noise to subside.

'Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to play a role in making travel to the surface as safe as possible, believe me,' he said. 'But the fact of the matter is, I'm new to the world up top too. Everyday I spend up there is a new learning experience and I still have much to learn.'

'What are you proposing, then?' asked a woman. Albert recognized her voice. It was Patricia – one of the older additions to the group who had shown a surprising amount of circumspection. He could still remember the day she had joined. She had walked right up to him and told him directly that she was joining because she felt the vault dwellers should be given a choice but not because she actually felt any urge to leave – the same sentiments he himself had held but had not felt comfortable sharing with anyone else. In fact, she had been the one who had planted the seeds of caution and the need for ample preparation in his mind. She was as organized as Theresa but with much more restraint in her decision-making.

'I've spoken to the Overseer and convinced him to allow two more of us out the next time we leave,' said Albert. 'The skills we have learnt and the experiences we have had so far are, as I mentioned, limited. Having a few more of us out there means more people to evaluate the world outside and bring back a variety of perspectives to all of you here. _But_… if we fail, and I pray we don't, but if we do, at least it will only be the few of us who pay the price for that failure.'

'But what will we do in the meantime?' asked another male in the audience. 'We can't just pretend like everything's okay. The Overseer won't tell us how long our supplies will last. If we hang around for too long, it might already be too late!'

'I don't have exact figures, but I've been told it will should last you another three months at the very least. So I ask you all to give as till then before making your move. As to what to do in the meantime, you're right. You can't just sit around waiting for catastrophe to hit. There are three things you can do. First, keep training in the simulators and reading about what to expect in the world outside. Those resources are limited but they're better than nothing. Second, keep planning. If we fail to find a chip and the water runs out of clean water, then you won't have a choice and you'll want to be as prepared as you can be. I would like to believe that it won't come to this, but if the Overseer still tries to keep you in by that point in time, then that will be the time to put your plan into action. Finally, conserve your rations. Save a bit each day and keep it in separate, clean containers. That way, if there ever comes a time when you _do _have to leave, you'll have what you need to do it.

'So which one of us will you take with you?' asked a different woman.

'I'm going to take a look at the simulation scores. One of the two will come from the top of that list. For the second, I need someone who can give me an appraisal of the situation as a fellow leader of the group, so I'll also be taking Theresa with me.' That last revelation was greeted by loud murmurings of misgivings. 'You will not be leaderless,' Albert reassured them. 'I have already appointed someone to take Theresa's place.'

* * *

><p>'So how do you feel about it?' Albert said to Patricia at the end of the meeting as people slowly began to trickle out of the room.<p>

'I do wish you had told me in advance,' said Pat.

'There really wasn't much of a choice,' Albert replied. 'You're the only one I know and can count on to exercise restraint. And that's the most important characteristic we need in a leader right now – someone who can do what's necessary if the time comes but who will also keep the rest of the group from acting impetuously. And besides, I had to pick someone I trusted and knew well to go with me. That meant either Theresa or yourself, and you've already made your views about the outside world clear. So… can I count on you to keep them from doing something stupid?'

Pat's look of hesitation gave way to a gentle smile. 'You know you can always count on me,' she said.

'Great. Then, if you can stay for a bit, Theresa and I are having a little Christmas party for the leaders of our little movement and those who've already been on the outside.'

'But we don't have access to any of the party equipment or catering, and the Overseer probably wouldn't be too willing to sponsor _this _kind of party.'

'That's why you need to have people who've been on the outside at the party. When was the last time you had pre-war whiskey?'

* * *

><p>On the morning of December the 27th, the group stood before the security doors to the airlock, their numbers expanded to five. Besides Theresa, the newest addition to the group was a man named Alex. Next to Albert himself, Alex had been the top scoring candidate in all the computer simulations and tests. Of course, that only made him as prepared as Albert himself had been when they had first left the Vault but it was better than nothing.<p>

This time, as they entered the airlock, a whole crowd of people had gathered to see them off. The pressure to succeed became suddenly that much more real and, as the security doors began to close, they turned away from their supporters with a slight sense of foreboding to greet the harsher realities of the outside world.

The doors had almost shut behind them when they heard a commotion from the crowd. They turned just in time to see an all too familiar figure squeezing through the rapidly closing gap. She cleared it just as the doors sealed shut, cutting off the sounds of the crowd. The failsafe device prevented the doors from accidentally opening again for another five minutes. Which was a good thing. Because now there wouldn't be anyone to stop Natalia from leaving.

'Didn't we just make this whole detour to get you _back _here in the first place?' Stone joked, though it was clear from his face that he was pleased to see her. Natalia smiled sheepishly back. Ian gave her a silent nod of approval.

'What made you change your mind?' Albert asked.

'This is my life now,' she said. 'I want to be with family. And you guys are more that family than I ever had in there.'


	10. Chapter 9: Junktown

One relatively significant change I've made. In this chapter, the vault dwellers learn about the existence of Necropolis. In the game, Necropolis is to the east. However, according to all the records, Necropolis is actually pre-War Bakersfield, which is west. I'm going with the more geographically accurate option.

**Chapter Nine: Junktown**

Five-and-a-half days of travel, mostly travelling south on Three Flags Highway, brought them to the outskirts of the place known as Junktown. It was easy to see where it got its name from. Surrounding the town was a long wall constructed out of sheets of corrugated metal. But to reinforce the flimsy wall, heaps of junked cars had been stacked, who knew how, one on top of another to block easy entrance to the place. Above the walls, a hazy smoke lay low over the town. Ian pointed them to the only entrance to the town – an old, blue, storage container taken from an old sixteen-wheeler. The interior had been hollowed out and surfaced with wooden planks. Just outside stood a guard in protective leather clothing carrying a .233 Colt Rangemaster semi-automatic hunting rifle. Just through the entrance, they could see another similarly armed guard, heavily muscled and scarred, with a thick, bushy mustache. Ian nodded in greeting to the guards and led the way in.

Over the course of the journey, Ian had filled them in on what to expect. Killian Darkwater, the town mayor, sheriff, and shopkeeper, had a strict but fair method of governing the town. People were allowed to carry their weapons with them but never to draw them unless attacked or in the defense of someone else being attacked. A man whom everyone knew only as "Gizmo" provided the town with its major draw: the local casino – a hive of gambling and underworld activity. Yet while most of Killian's people knew Gizmo ran a rigged operation with the criminal elements to back it up, no one could prove it, and Killian's principles and commitment to the letter of the Law kept him from coming down onto Gizmo or his lackeys without hard evidence. The local gang, who went by the name "the Skulz," were another source of trouble in town, occasionally roughing people up seemingly for the fun of it. Some, Killian's men included, suspected that Gizmo also occasionally hired the Skulz to perform grunt work, but, again, no one could trace it back to him. Most of the Skulz themselves probably didn't even know that some of their actions were directed by anyone other than their gang's leaders.

The group of vault dwellers settled on staying at the local motel – an establishment that had been aptly named "the Crash House." The system was simple for the average visitor to Junktown: come to town, gamble one's money away, spend most of what's left on booze at the local watering hole known as "the Skum Pitt," then use the last few caps on getting a room at the Crash House.

With the caps Aradesh had given them, the vault dwellers had no problems getting three rooms to be shared between the six of them. It was 25 caps for a day and 150 for a week. They didn't think their search would take more than three or four days so they decided to go by the day. The night manager, a tough-looking woman dressed in leather armor by the name of Marcelles, took their money and led the way to their rooms.

Each room had plenty of space and, in terms of furniture, was equipped with a very nice looking queen-sized bed, a wooden table with two chairs, a cupboard, and a locker. And unlike the adobe huts in Shady Sands, the Crash House was actually an enormous, single-storey, pre-war bungalow, so it was a huge improvement in the way of comfort.

The vault dwellers stashed their things in the lockers, keeping only their caps and their weapons with them. Then they gathered in the lounge area of the Crash House to discuss their plans. The most logical source of information was, of course, Killian Darkwater himself. Next to that, the Skum Pitt was a possible place to find travelers who might have picked up on the possible location of other vaults in the course of their travels. Everything else except the casino was fair game.

The group decided to split into two (Albert, Theresa, and Ian in one, Natalia, Stone, and Alex in the other) and then get back together at eight in the evening to discuss their findings and reassess their plans. The first group would head to Killian's general store while the second would be responsible for checking out the Skum Pitt once it opened.

* * *

><p>Eager to test their leads, Albert led the way to Killian's store. Like the Crash House, this one was a former home just across the street from the motel. Two guards stood at the doorway to the store and another sat inside, guarding not only the many tables covered with a wide variety of goods but also Killian himself. There were two other customers milling around the tables, browsing the merchandise.<p>

Killian was a tall, tanned man in his late thirties to early forties with short, tousled, sandy hair framing strong, well-defined features. Dressed in a long, dust-colored trench coat over what appeared to be an old sheriff's uniform, Killian certainly presented himself with the authority befitting his roles. Albert could also not help noticing the pair of dog tags hanging around his neck, obviously not his but perhaps belonging to one of his ancestors who may have served in the military during the war.

The mayor noticed their arrival and after giving them a quick visual appraisal and recognizing them as newcomers, approached them with a smile.

'Welcome to Junktown, strangers,' he said with a noticeable Midwestern drawl they had heard so far. 'The name's Killian. Killian Darkwater. I'm the mayor of this fine town. And who might you be?'

Albert shook the mayor's hand, introducing himself and the other two.

'Are you from the south?'

'North, actually,' said Albert.

'Not much up that way 'cept desert and Shady Sands. You from there?'

'No, we come from a Vault, further to the west.'

'Yeah, sure you do,' Killian said sardonically, taking Albert by surprise. 'And when you were a baby your crib was a safe.'

It took Albert a second to realize that Killian genuinely didn't know what he was talking about and had taken his claim to be a poor joke.

'No, no, it's _called _a Vault,' Albert added quickly. 'It protected us from the War. It's been full of people for over eighty years!'

Killian chuckled and briefly waved off his attempted explanation, which told Albert both that the mayor hadn't been serious but also that he still didn't believe Albert and had merely taken Albert's attempt to clear the air as a continuation of the lousy joke. 'Don't feel bad,' he said, noticing Albert's slightly flustered look. 'Ain't the worst story I've been told.'

Albert was floored. It was the first time he had met someone who didn't have a clue as to what the vaults were. That meant that not only had Killian been born and brought up outside of a vault, but that his parents probably had had the same experience.

'So. What can I do for ya?' Killian asked.

Albert shook off his initial surprise. 'We were actually hoping you could help us with some information,' he said.

'Like what?'

'Well, we haven't been this far south before and we're looking for other settlements in the area that use the same kind of water purifying equipment we do. Ours broke down recently and we're looking for a replacement. We were hoping you might point us in the direction of a few places.'

'Well, travelers tell me there's a bunch of crazies up north called the Vipers and another group of yahoos out east called the Khans. But I'm guessing they're probably not the one's you're looking for. Neither one of them is likely to invite you to supper as anything but the main course, if you know what I mean.'

'There has to be other places.'

'Well, the Hub's _the _place but you already seem to have known that. There are a few old pre-War towns out east. I haven't seen them myself but there's a possibility they may have been inhabited and restored by people wandering the Wastes. But don't go west, though. That'd be Necropolis. The uh… _climate's _bad there, rain or shine, if you understand what I'm saying.'

Another customer walked into the store to browse the wares, protracting the otherwise brief moment of silence.

'How so?' Albert asked.

'That city's death,' Killian said grimly. 'I sent two patrols down there to see if there were communities over there we might set up trading routes with… neither one of them returned.'

'What's there that's so dangerous?'

'Not a clue besides the old bedtime stories.'

'What bedtime stories?'

'Y'know, the ones that talk about the city being filled with the undead and all that.'

Albert felt a chill run down his spine. 'And what do you think it is, really?' he asked.

'I don't speculate about such things. All I know is that it's the place you go to if you've decided you don't like living anymore. It's called Necropolis for a reason, and I don't send anymore people that way for that same reason.'

'Well could you point it out on a map, anyway? It sounds like a place we might like to keep in mind to avoid, then.'

Killian agreed and located the city on Albert's PIPBoy map. It turned out to be none other than Bakersfield – California's third largest inland city. Albert could only wonder what might have happened there that had turned it into a place so feared as to warrant its current title.

'So is there anything else I can do for you folks while you're here in Junktown?' Killian asked as Albert locked in the coordinates and saved the new entry to his PIPBoy.

'Well, we should be heading out in a day or two, so I guess we could use a restock of some of our supplies,' said Albert.

'Well that's a damn fine coincidence, then. That's what this store's here for,' said Killian, happier now that he knew he had a customer. 'We got about everything you can need. Let me show you some things over here…'

Albert's eyes looked over the tables in the room to where Killian was pointing with his outstretched hand. In the corner were a couple of jerrycans of water and a couple of tables lined with travel rations – mostly brahma jerky, dried fruits, and nuts. The two customers who had already been in the store before chose that moment to come over to Killian to pay for the goods they had selected. Killian excused himself and brought out an old calculator to count the cost of the items they had picked.

That was when Albert noticed something odd. Since first coming into the store, the newest had not moved from his spot at one of the tables. He was picking and inspecting the various tools displayed on the table, yet didn't seem particularly interested in them. Every now and then, Albert noticed that he would raise his gaze off the table to glance at Killian or the guard.

The guard seemed oblivious to these subtle gestures and Killian was talking to his two other customers about their work. Ian and Theresa were also looking through the various trinkets on sale so they didn't seem to have noticed anything odd. Albert was about to interrupt the transaction between Killian and the two other customers to let him know of his observation when something else happened.

Another shady looking character entered the store. But where the first one was unobtrusive in his attire, this one was dressed as loudly as possible, in a bright red shirt, two Colts displayed proudly in their side holsters, and a scowl on his face. Everyone noticed this man's entrance. Even Killian glanced once at him before returning to his two customers. But this time, as Killian turned his attention back to his customers, Albert noticed his right hand straying near the gun at his side.

Albert's eyes narrowed as his brain tried to process the two different suspicious signals. The red-shirted man caught his glance and sneered back. Albert was about to look back at the first man – who was still picking half-heartedly at the objects on the table – when the newcomer called out the mayor's name. His tone was aggressive, challenging, and clear in its intent.

Killian's gun was drawn faster than Albert could track. Killian's guard leapt to his feet, his rifle raised. Ian also had his SMG unslung but was reluctant to fire the first shot since there hadn't actually been any actual provocation yet and he was very familiar with Junktown law regarding civilian use of firearms. The most surprising thing, however, was that the newcomer who had shouted did nothing after. His guns remained holstered and it was almost comical how he just stood there as if he were trying to stare down the mayor. Killian, his guard, and Ian's weapons were all trained on an angry looking man who had done nothing but open his mouth.

Then it all became clear to Albert. He turned quickly to the first man at the far table whom no one had seemed to notice. Sure enough, the deliberate distraction offered by the second man had given the true gunman all the time he had needed to bring out his own .44 and line up Killian in its sights.

'Look out!' Albert shouted, even as he shoved the mayor out of the way. The gunman's shot missed, harmlessly piercing air and striking the western wall. One of the other customers who had nearly been pegged by the gunman's shot screamed at around the same time that Albert's own Desert Eagle came free from its holster. The gunman's face registered surprise at how he had missed, but his pre-planned sequence of action prevented him from going back and taking a second shot at Killian. Instead, he turned to Killian's guard who was standing no more than seven feet away. The guard had only just registered what had really happened and was turning his rifle to bear on the actual threat, but it was already too late. The gunman fired his second round directly into the guard's forehead. A split second later, Albert fired his own weapon twice. The first struck the gunman in his shoulder, spinning him around with the force of the impact. The second hit him in the side of his head and he went down.

In the meantime, the second man in the red shirt had realized that the attempted assassination had failed. The two guards at the entrance had heard the commotion and were just entering the store, blocking off his escape. He pulled both of his guns from their holsters but did not realize that Ian had had his sights trained on him from the start. A short burst cut through the air riddling the gunman's upper chest and head with half a dozen rounds.

The customer's brief scream of shock ended at around the same time that the last spent cartridge clinked on the tiled floor, impressing upon Albert just how quickly everything had just happened. Albert glanced out of his peripheral vision at the fallen man in the red shirt but kept his gun trained on the first gunman; neither were moving. Albert allowed himself to exhale, hardly believing what he had just done or that he had been able to react as quickly as he had.

Killian recovered from his fall, caused when Albert had pushed him earlier. His gun was trained on the gunman as well, his expression grim. He walked over to the fallen man, kicked his weapon away from his hand, then knelt down to check for a pulse. Like the other assassin, this man was dead.

Killian holstered his weapon and, after performing a quick but fruitless search of the gunman's pockets for any form of identification or clue as to his motive, walked back over to Albert, all the while staring thoughtfully at the floor as he thought through the implications of what had just happened.

'Listen. Thanks for saving my life. Both of you. It was a mighty brave thing to do,' he said in a matter-of-fact tone, but one that was rimmed with genuine gratitude. He glanced back at the dead gunman and took a quick breath before turning back to Albert. 'Looks like we got ourselves a situation here,' he said. 'I know Gizmo's behind this.'

'But you don't have actual proof,' Albert finished his sentence for him.

'Exactly,' said Killian.

'Well, the two perpetrators have paid for their crimes in full, it seems.'

'That won't be enough. Not this time,' Killian replied. 'This was an act of war. If I let this slide, Gizmo's just going to try again.'

'So… why are you telling us this, exactly?' he asked Killian, dreading the reply.

'You interested in helping?'

'Us? Why do you need us for?'

'Now, if I get proof,' Killian explained, 'the people of Junktown will kick him out. It's the only way to do it. If we just go in there and arrest him without public support, we may suddenly find Gizmo gaining allies. And whoever has the support of the people has the authority in this place.'

'What… exactly do you need doing?' Albert asked hesitantly.

'Way I figure it, you need to either plant a bug at his place or wear a wire and get him to confess to you.'

'Whoa,' Albert took a step back. 'Sounds kinda dangerous…'

'I'm not gonna lie to you, it will _be _dangerous. But I'll owe you, and Killian Darkwater always pays his debts.'

'What do you mean "pays his debts"?'

'I tell you what. Anything in this store, even the most expensive, it's yours. No charge. If it's a gun, I'll give you all the ammo you can carry. Does that sound fair?'

'But why do you need us, specifically? Why not anyone one of your men?'

'The same reason Gizmo hired these two unknowns here. You're all outsiders. No way to trace you back to me.'

'I don't know,' said Albert reluctantly. 'The last time we got into a fight that wasn't our own, we were lucky to get through it with our lives. We're no seasoned mercenaries.'

'Few _are_ the first time they're hired. Look, I know it's not an easy decision to make and I hate to have to push this on you on your first day in Junktown – hardly a welcoming gesture. But I'll be honest with you; you'd be making a huge difference to Junktown. By helping us get rid of Gizmo, you'd be making this place that much safer, and if you ever get a glimpse of Gizmo, you'll know that's by _a lot_.'

'You're not seriously considering this, are you?' Theresa asked when the three of them had left the store. 'If those two men were actually sent by this Gizmo person, we'll be walking into a nest of vipers.'

'Not we,' said Albert. 'Me.'

'You want to go in there alone?'

'The last time I dragged others into a dangerous decision I made, it ended up having consequences that I'm still not convinced have been resolved. What do you think, Ian?'

'If you're asking me,' said Ian, 'this makes much more sense than your decision at the Khans'. The gains here are much more concrete and predictable, and we'll have the backing of law enforcers.'

'Wh… what decision?' Theresa asked. 'You told me you four just walked into their camp and negotiated for Tandi's release.'

'There was… more to it than that,' said Albert. 'The fight I just mentioned to Killian… I wasn't talking about our time in the radscorpion caves. We had quite a scuffle with the Khans as well. We just didn't want to overwhelm you and Alex on your first week out here.'

'Albert, you brought me out here for a reason, and I'm sure that reason was more than just my desire to leave the Vault. If you really meant what you said when you told the rest of our group that you needed another leader to come up with alternative perspectives concerning the outside world, then you _have _to keep me in the loop.'

Albert looked down, his hands planted on his hips, and sighed. He cast a glance at Ian.

'Know of any place here that serves whiskey at this time of day?' he asked.

* * *

><p>Natalia, Alex, and Stone spent most of the early afternoon just exploring the town. While this was the first settlement Alex had seen since leaving the Vault, the experience was just as new and amazing to Natalia and Stone. Junktown had been constructed around a small collection of pre-existing suburban homes, but those homes alone were insufficient to house the now substantial and growing population. As a result, as the wall was expanded over time, more and more homes had been built, constructed largely out of sheets of scrap metal and large boards of wood, all scavenged from other sources. For the most part, these homes seemed functional, except that the occasional gap along their seems meant that no one would be totallyspared the desert dust or rain.<p>

Besides the homes, the casino, the local motel, the pub, and the general store, Junktown also had a small clinic that people referred to as "the hospital" even though it was manned by only one person – a man who went by the rather questionable name of "Doc Morbid" – and a boxing ring behind the casino with daily two o'clock fights. The three vault dwellers now sat on the stands along with several dozen other Junktowners, watching a fight between the standing champion, Saul, some newcomer who thought he would try his luck for the attractive five hundred cap prize. Both fighters were well built and extremely athletic, muscles toughened by years of fighting, but it was clear as the fight went on that Saul was the more experienced fighter. He had better command of the ring, the light-footed stance characteristic of a skilled boxer, and the knowhow to execute convincing feints that forced his opponent to inadvertently lower his guard at inopportune moments.

From what the bookie and facilitator, Gustofer, had announced, Saul's opponent had tried to best the champion on two previous occasions and failed. This was his third attempt and things still didn't look like they were going to turn in his favor any time soon.

'_You _should sign up, Stone,' said Alex.

'No way,' Natalia retorted. 'They don't even wear boxing gloves.'

'So what?' Alex replied. 'Neither one of those two are going to be able to put a dent in our man here.'

'I was referring to the damage he might do on them,' said Natalia.

'I'm sure it's a risk they're willing to take. It comes with the territory after all.' Natalia stared at Alex. 'It's something we need to embrace,' said Alex. 'The simulations talked about this. They said that in a post-nuclear environment where no one has anymore access to leisure activities like shopping, movies, music, or sports, people would find ways to create their own forms of leisure. This boxing match here… it _fits _with the world we're in now. It's a dangerous world – isn't that what you and Albert have been constantly saying over the past five days? And a dangerous world calls for edgier kinds of entertainment.'

'You think you know so much about this world…' Natalia said disapprovingly. 'Your simulations aren't as comprehensive as you presume.'

'Not in the details, perhaps,' Alex admitted, 'but in terms of predictions about society, they've been spot on so far. I mean, take the raiders, for example. The simulations said plenty about them.'

'Not everything,' Natalia said softly but grimly, painfully recalling the details of their attack on the Khans – details they had not shared with Alex or Theresa.

'You're such a party pooper,' said Alex. 'I can't believe you're younger than me.'

Natalia opened her mouth to argue, thought better of it, and turned her attention back to the fight instead. Saul had just landed a heavy right blow to his opponent. The man staggered back and then collapsed on his side. Slowly, he rolled over till he was on his hands and knees. He was breathing heavily. Saul waited patiently for him to get up.

The referee started counting. Slowly, Saul's opponent began raising himself back to his feet. Then to everyone's surprise, he suddenly pushed himself forcefully off the ground and lunged towards Saul. Saul took a step back to minimize the impact, but he hadn't been counting on the spikes that rimmed the hardened steel knuckle grip that his opponent was now grasping in his right fist.

The audiences' jaws dropped at the flagrant breach of rules. For Natalia, the horror came more from the notion that the man had somehow managed to conceal the weapon in his pants the whole time without injuring himself.

The spikes punched their way into Saul's chest, drawing a cry of pain and plenty of blood. While they weren't deep enough to cause a fatal injury, what would have otherwise been a relatively harmlessly blow to the chest had now gouged four gashes into Saul's torso. Taken off guard by the sudden pain, Saul missed blocking his opponent's second blow. The man lashed out with his unarmed left fist, catching Saul in the jaw and throwing him off his feet.

Having noticed the illegal weapon, the referee was blowing furiously on his whistle and the two ring guards standing by the ring leapt in to stop the fighter before he caused more damage. Saul's opponent had leapt onto the defending champion, hoping to land one final blow to Saul's head. Fortunately, Saul had recovered from his shock. As the blow came down to his head, he knocked the man's fist aside with his arm. Before the man could try again, the two guards head reached him and were raining down blows with their heavy, wooden police batons.

Once they had knocked the fight out of him, they dragged him out of the ring and around the corner to the rear of the casino. Saul was bleeding from the four wounds inflicted on his chest, but before he allowed the medic to treat him, he waited to acknowledge his default victory. Gustofer made the announcement, Saul smiled and waved to the crowds, and then allowed the medic to work on his wounds.

'Still think this is something we need to embrace?' Natalia said to Alex.

* * *

><p>The evening saw the whole gang at the Skum Pitt. It was primarily Natalia's team's responsibility to do the ground work that night, but the consensus was that Albert's people would help out if they could. They had come earlier for dinner and now sat around soaking in the local fauna.<p>

'What about that guy?' Albert said to Natalia, as he chomped down on the charred meat and vegetables skewered to the cooking stick he now held between his fingers. Everyone looked in the direction he had indicated. The singer standing in the corner had his hat off on the floor in front of him and was belting out folk tunes on his banjo.

'Why him?' Theresa asked taking a sip from a blue-tinted bottle of something called Nuka-Cola. She grimaced a bit at the texture. It was sweet but warm and flat.

'You can't do something like that for a living by staying in the same place all the time,' said Albert. 'Sooner or later, people are gonna get sick of your music. Chances are, this guy probably travels to different places both to reach fresh audiences as well as to pick up new ideas. And if he's travelled, then he may know of other places we might consider checking out.' Albert looked around the room some more. 'Or perhaps, if you're feeling adventurous… and don't everybody look at once… you might try that guy.'

The rest of the group waited until they could steal furtive glances at the second person Albert had noted. The bald, bearded man Albert had indicated sat alone at one of the tables smoking a cigar and drinking a stout. He was dressed in dusty leather armor, a sand-colored trench coat, and had a gas mask and a pair of goggles hanging around his neck. A double-barreled shotgun similar in design to Stone's leaned against the table within easy reach. He certainly appeared seasoned and well-travelled.

'I don't know,' said Natalia. 'He looks like the kind of person who doesn't want to be disturbed.'

'Or you could just talk to her,' said Albert just as the waitress walked over to their table.

'Can I get you guys anything else to drink?' she asked. Albert ordered another half-dozen bottles of Nuka-Cola.

'Just out of curiosity, who owns this bar?' Albert asked her.

'Neal does.'

'Is Neal the bartender?'

'Yeah.'

'That's interesting. From what people have been saying, this sounds like the kind of place I'd imagine that casino owner, Gizmo, would control.'

'He _wants _to, that's for sure. He's been trying to take over the bar for months, but Neal's been adamant about not selling.'

'And things have been… okay since then?' Albert left the specific question unspoken.

'Well, the Skulz seem to have been causing more trouble than usual,' the waitress replied, picking up on his implication, 'and Neal sometimes claims Gizmo's behind it, but of course no one really knows for sure.'

'The Skulz. You mean those guys?' Albert gestured with his head at the group of three at one of the tables. They were the primary source of the noise in the pub, their coarse and fatuous conversations loud enough for everyone to hear. Each of them was also armed with at least three knives, one of which was used to carve up the meat on their plates. One of them noticed them looking and grinned, revealing two rows of teeth that had been filed to jagged points. He beckoned to the waitress.

'Yeah, those guys,' she replied. 'I should go.'

'Well,' said Albert, turning back to Natalia. 'It's your call. I'd say try the singer first.'

'I'll take the waitress,' said Alex. 'She's hot.'

'And from what I hear, Trish is also attached,' said Ian.

'To whom?'

'That guy.'

'Who, _that _guy?' Alex asked in disbelief. Everyone else turned again, this time to another bald man over at the bar, chatting with two of his friends. He was none other than Saul, the boxer from the afternoon fight. He was no longer bare-chested, but even the long-sleeved sweater he now wore over his bandages couldn't conceal his well-defined musculature.

'Don't give up, Junktown also has call girls,' Ian said half facetiously.

'No kidding, how do I get my hands on that?'

'Ookay,' Natalia said, getting impatient. 'While you _men _work at reinforcing the objectification of women, we ladies are going to pay a visit to our singer. Come on, Theresa.'

Followed by her sole female companion in the group, Natalia headed over to the man singing in the corner.

'Your friend Alex is… quite obnoxious,' Natalia shared with Theresa as they walked.

'He's also the most qualified to leave the Vault,' Theresa explained. 'I was actually surprised the Overseer didn't pick _him_ the first time round.'

'Really? I'm not so surprised. How old is he? He looks like a kid.'

'Coming from you?' Theresa gave a short laugh.

'You're right,' Natalia smiled ruefully at herself. They reached the singer. Natalia threw a couple of caps into the man's hat just as he finished his last song. 'Hey, good singing,' she told him.

'Thanks,' said the man. 'It's hard being a starving artist. Always nice to hear my music's appreciated.'

'Do you do music anywhere else?'

'Yeah, I sing at the Hub sometimes, and I've visited the Brotherhood of Steel and Adytum with the caravans. Why do you ask?'

'This is our first time this far south. We're trying to map out some of the local haunts. Where are these places you just mentioned?' Natalia brought out her PIPBoy and showed it to the singer.

'Well, the Brotherhood's a coupla days west and a little bit north of here,' he said, fascinating himself with the advanced technology of the PIPBoy. 'Don't bother going there, though,' he added after he had pointed out its location. 'They won't let you in unless you're with a caravan.'

'Kind of a strange name, don't you think?'

'They're some kind of independent quasi-military group. They're very secretive. No one knows anything about them other than that they're probably the most heavily armed group this side of the old States. But they mostly keep to themselves, so most us aren't too worried.'

'And Adytum?'

'That's southwest of the Hub. It's a small, semi-industrial town on the north side of the Boneyard.'

'Bone… yard?'

'Los Angeles. That's what we call it now. It got pretty beat up during the War. Most of it is just rubble and debris now, but a few pockets have been reclaimed. Adytum's one of them. But I wouldn't go there unless you needed to.'

'Why not?'

'It's heavily fenced, highly regulated… I didn't like it much there. It's like big government coming back all over again.'

Natalia was about to ask how the man knew the first thing about what the catchphrase 'big government' even _meant _when a commotion at the other side of the bar caught everyone's attention. Several things happened in rapid succession.

First, everyone heard one of the Skulz members yell 'Bitch!' Then, he suddenly got to his feet, swinging his knife at the waitress whom Ian had earlier identified as Trish. She staggered back to avoid the blow, lost her footing, and fell to the floor. She screamed Saul's name as she desperately tried to retreat from her assailant. Saul turned, his expression changing to one of horror as he leapt off his stool to come to Trish's aid. Over on the closer side of the room, Natalia spotted the man in the trench coat rise from his seat, the shotgun already raised to fire. Albert also had risen, his hand tightly gripping the Desert Eagle. Then came the gunshot, muffled but still deafening in the close confines of the bar. Half of the Skulz member's head blew apart in a spray of brains and blood. His two companions were on their feet, their own weapons in hand.

To everyone's surprise, the gunshot had come not from Albert or the man with the shotgun, but from the direction of the bar. Neal, the short, unassuming bartender had a large, modified .233 pistol clasped firmly in his hands, a look of cold determination on his face. His weapon was trained on the two remaining Skulz members.

'Get the hell outta here you goddamn punks!' he yelled at them. 'If any of ya ever touch her again, I'll kill the whole lot o' ya!'

The man with the filed teeth snarled. 'We'll be back, old man,' he spat. 'This isn't over.'

As the two Skulz members left, Saul rushed over to Trish. Neal went over to check that she was okay, then temporarily left the bar to Saul and Trish's care while he headed over to the guardhouse to report the incident and get the help of the town guards to clean up the mess. Slowly, the crowd returned to their drinks and conversations.

Over at the vault dwellers' table, Albert re-holstered his weapon and sat down.

'You're quick-draw's improved a lot,' Ian commented.

'Thanks,' Albert replied.

'Maybe too much.'

'What do you mean?'

'Some fights are worth intervening in, particularly those that earn you favors or caps. Others might get you into more trouble than they're worth.'

'So you're saying I _shouldn't _have been prepared to intervene to save that woman's life?'

'I know it sounds cold, but let me explain. If you _had _intervened and shot that man, you would have invoked the ire of the Skulz. You saw their reaction to the bartender. They're not going to let it slide and Neal may one day find himself at the end of a knifepoint.'

'Even so—'

'More _importantly_,' Ian interrupted, 'if Neal is right and Gizmo is behind the trouble the Skulz have been causing in the bar, then you would _also _have gotten the attention of the most dangerous man in Junktown. That kind of danger follows you wherever you go. So all I'm saying is: pick your fights more carefully. If you're going to start trouble, make sure you strike the head, not the tail.'

'So you're saying help Killian rather than this poor woman…' said Albert. 'And do it only because he pays his dues.'

'That's exactly what I'm saying. That's the law of this new jungle.'

'I disagree,' said a voice from the nearest table. The man with the gas mask approached them. 'Some things are worth fighting for on principle.'

'Are you a resident of Junktown?' Ian challenged.

'It's certainly an interesting town, but no, I don't really consider it home. So, no, I don't actually have any personal vested interest in the matter. Like many places I've been to, Junktown has potential. If you ever want to rebuild America, it's places like this that could well make that possible.'

'Oh, great, another American patriot,' Ian muttered.

'And why not?' said the man. 'Americans used to know what it was like to fight for something larger than themselves.'

'Maybe so, but America doesn't _exist _anymore,' Ian argued.

'No reason it couldn't be rebuilt.'

Ian shook his head in exasperation. 'Albert, this one's all yours. You I can take. Anyone else who's already been living out here for years already… I'm going to go take a stroll outside.'

The man with the gas mask was unfazed.

'"Living out here,"' he mused, repeating Ian's words. 'You people must have come from one of those vaults. I knew there was something different about you. How interesting. Would you be willing to share more with me over a drink?'

'We've been running on Nuka-Cola for most of the evening,' said Albert. 'I suppose we could up the ante a little.'

'Delightful,' said the man. 'Let me go get us some libations. I hope you don't mind your drinks well-watered, though. They treat beer here like it's a potted plant.'

The man walked over to the bar and got a round of beers from Trish, who had temporarily taken over Neal's role as bartender.

'So what's your story?' Albert asked as the man handed the beers around and took his place in Ian's vacant seat.

'I could ask the same of you,' the man replied. 'In the interest of amity, though, I suppose I'll tell first. I'm called Tycho. Came from out north and east – what used to be called Nevada.'

'Alone?' Alex asked.

'For the most part.'

'How did you survive all the dangers? Survival's tough these days. You must be prettyknowledgeable,' said Albert.

'Had some pretty good training, and some good weapons, too. My grandfather was a Ranger way back when, and he taught my father everything he knew. Dad passed it on to me. So I know enough not to drink glowing water, so to speak.'

'Can you be more specific?' Albert pressed.

'Don't drink water that's totally clear and free of insects and moss, for instance. Only poisonous or radioactive water would be that clean in the wilderness.'

'I could have told you that,' Alex interjected.

'Lots of other little things to look out for besides...'

'Like what?' Alex said.

'Well, if you've got the time, I could go over some pointers.'

Their conversation lasted well into the night until the crowds had dissipated, and, eventually, even Alex and Stone decided to call it a night. Natalia decided to take a walk around town, leaving Theresa and Albert as the only members of the group still sitting in the Skum Pitt.

Tycho came from the far northeastern side of Nevada and so even though he knew of several settlements along the way, which Albert took note of in his PIPBoy map, most were too distant to think about as anything but last resorts in their search for the water chip. Still, Tycho had done a whole lot of traveling down in the south as well, including to Necropolis. He explained that the stories of the city being filled with the living dead were not entirely fabricated. Practically all of the folks living there were long term victims of severe radiation poisoning. Obviously, most sufferers of heavy doses of radiation would have died, but, apparently, there was a whole other bunch who had some kind of x-factor in their genes whose radioactive mutation, instead of killing them when exposed to it, ironically gave them much greater life spans. The tradeoff, of course, was that they were all heavily mutated and ghastly to look upon, to the extent that those who did know of their existence had taken to calling them "ghouls". Further, while some of them had retained their intellectual capacities, many others had succumbed to the radiation, effectively becoming nothing more than disfigured, shambling, flesh-hungry zombies, hence the name of the city.

The truth, while serving to demystify the conditions surrounding the name "Necropolis," did nothing to ease Albert and Theresa's misgivings about the place. If anything, the horrors of the War made the city seem even more terrifying than before.

To shift topics, Albert and Theresa began talking about their own experiences in the Vault. Eventually, however, as time wore on and the last of the crowd departed, the conversation inevitably ended up circling back to the subject of Gizmo and crime in Junktown.

'There are many lives here in Junktown that stand on a precipice thanks to Gizmo's machinations,' Tycho explained to them. 'Take those two, for instance,' he said, referring to Saul and Trish, who were, at the moment, helping Neal clean up the bar. 'Gizmo sponsors the fights that take place in the boxing ring outside. So, technically, Saul works for Gizmo. But Gizmo doesn't really care what happens in Saul's private life. So, earlier, you saw the Skulz at work. That's Gizmo's doing as well. Previously, the only times the Skulz caused problems in here was when they got stone drunk. They were dead sober today. They came here _looking _to cause problems. The more problems for Neal, the more likely he'll cave under pressure. And Trish, through no fault of her own, suffers because of it. She got lucky today. But do you think Gizmo will care if Saul's girlfriend gets permanently disfigured or maybe even killed by a knife wound one day?'

'Can't you just tell Saul about what Gizmo's been doing?'

'Saul is surprisingly innocent of these things. He doesn't have the slightest clue about what's been going on between Gizmo and Neal, or even Gizmo and Killian. And he thinks of each of them too highly for anything you or I could say to make an impact. He also doesn't realize that the day he starts losing his fights is the day Gizmo's going to throw him out on his ass without a care. Gizmo may demand loyalty of his employees but he sure doesn't think much of reciprocation.'

'Hey, Tycho. Are you bad-mouthing my employer again?' said Saul, partially in jest, as he overheard Tycho's last sentence. Having finished cleaning up, he pulled up a seat for himself and Trish and joined the group.

'Nothing you haven't heard already,' Tycho lied.

'I really don't see what's the problem you have with him,' Saul replied. 'He keeps people entertained, he brings in revenue for Junktown… Pays good money to the fighters here, too.' From his periphery, Albert noticed that neither Tycho nor Trish seemed entirely comfortable with the topic of Saul's current employment. Albert decided to shift the conversation a little.

'Have you always been boxing?'

'I was always getting into scuffles with my brothers when I was growing up. One time a small band of raiders attacked Junktown and I beat one into submission before he could get his gun on me. Just luck, really, but Gizmo was sponsoring organized fights, and I needed some money. Seemed like things just fell into place. Been boxing ever since.'

'Where are your brothers now?'

'James was killed in a raider attack a few years ago. Shortly after that, my other brother, Darrell, gathered together some things and set off southeast towards some mythical place called the Glow, in search of the treasure of the ancients or something like that. He never came back.'

'I'm sorry to hear of your loss.'

'It's been a few years now…'

'What _is_ this legendary place? "The Glow" was it…?'

'From what I've heard, it's this great crater that glows at night. It's supposed to be far, far to the southeast, but I don't know where. Stories say it's inhabited by all sorts of mutant freaks who guard the technology from before the War.'

'Mutant freaks. You mean "ghouls"?'

'You've been listening to Tycho's stories I see… yeah I guess you can call 'em ghouls. At least, that's what people been saying.'

'What was this place _before_ the War?'

'Beats me. I've never really felt the need to check it out for myself. I have too good a life here to want to give it up. Trish keeps me grounded here.' He reached over to put a protective arm around Trish's shoulders, then winced as he inadvertently stretched the wound he had suffered earlier in the afternoon. A splotch of red appeared through his shirt.

'You're bleeding!' Trish gasped, pulling his arm off her shoulder so it wouldn't pull on the stitches. She rolled up his shirt to reveal blood-soaked bandages. 'You've gone and torn the stitches,' she scolded him. 'Wait here. We'll clean up the wound, then head over to the hospital.'

As Trish left to get the medical kit, Saul's smile turned to a small frown. 'She doesn't like my boxing, much,' he confided to Albert, Theresa, and Tycho. 'She doesn't seem to understand that it's what I want to do.'

'She's concerned for your welfare,' Theresa said. 'I was the same way when this man here…' she paused to grab Albert's arm affectionately, 'left home for three weeks. Your girlfriend probably can't stand to see you getting beaten up and risking your life for Gizmo.'

Saul's frown became more furrowed. 'I never thought of it that way,' he admitted. 'I figured she just didn't like boxing.'

'How long have the two of you been together now?' Theresa asked.

'Almost a year. Why?'

'Take it from a woman,' said Theresa. 'If you don't find a compromise, you _could _lose her. And it won't be because she doesn't love you enough.' Trish reappeared with fresh bandages and a bucket of water. The others got up to give the couple more privacy. 'Just think about what I said,' said Theresa to Saul as they left.

After saying their farewells to Tycho, Albert and Theresa walked together back to the Crash House. As they strolled back, Theresa reached out and grasped Albert's hand in her own. He didn't object. Then, as they were passing an alleyway, she suddenly pulled him. She rested her back against the wall and then drew him in close before giving him a long, passionate kiss.

'Here?' Albert blurted when they next broke the kiss.

'We're never going to get many opportunities to be alone,' she said. 'I want to make use of every one that comes our way.'

'But—'

Theresa silenced the rest of his sentence with another kiss. She had just got his zipper halfway down when they heard footsteps. A few seconds later, a figure dashed past them on the main road. Albert stepped out of the alleyway and called out to the running figure.

'Natalia?' he said in surprise. Natalia stopped and turned, breathless from her run. 'What's going on? Where are you going in such a hurry?' Albert asked.

'To the guardhouse… The fighter from this afternoon… the one who cheated… I just came across his body in one of the alleys. He's dead.'


	11. Chapter 10: Gizmo

Longest friggin' chapter so far. Quite a lot of events packed into it too.

**Chapter Ten: Gizmo**

Albert woke to a commotion outside his room. A quick scan of the room told him that Ian wasn't in the room. The pillow the former merchant guard had used was still on the floor; Ian had made it clear that under no circumstances would he share a bed with another man, not even for purely pragmatic purposes. Albert hadn't complained. After living most of his adult life in a room of his own, the prospect of sharing a bed with any person, except maybe Theresa, didn't run well with him.

As Albert put on a shirt, he realized that the noise from outside came from people shouting. He groaned inwardly. Junktown sure didn't have a shortage of things to keep you on your toes. First the attempted assassination on Killian's life, then the fight in the Skum Pitt, then Natalia's discovery of the body of last night's boxer in that alley, and now this. What were the chances that a place like Junktown could experience not just one but four deaths in a day? And how many of those were Gizmo's doing? Albert counted them in his head. The two assassins who had been killed in Killian's store had almost certainly been hired by Gizmo. If the trends were to be believed, then the event that led to the Skulz member's death in the Skum Pitt was at least initiated by Gizmo's desire to cause problems for Neal. And what about the boxer? From what Tycho had said the previous night while he had been recounting all of Gizmo's crimes for Albert, all the staff at the boxing ring were on Gizmo's payroll. So that made… four out of four. Maybe Tycho was right after all.

Albert got his gun, tucked it into the back of the waistband of his trousers, and opened the door. To his surprise, the lounge area of the motel was half filled with people. The focus of their attention appeared to be the open doorway leading into one of the other bedrooms. They had formed a semi-circle around a Junktown guard who had his rifle raised and aimed at something or someone inside the room. Albert moved closer and peered over the guard's shoulder to see a crazed looking man with a pistol in hand that he held closely against the head of a pouty, shapely brunette. Judging by her attire and her heavily made-up facial features, Albert had little trouble guessing her trade.

'How long has this been going on?' Albert asked to one of the members of the crowd.

'They've been at a standoff for over five minutes now,' the man he was talking to responded softly.

Albert glanced at the rifle and noticed that it was trembling ever so slightly. The guard was either nervous, or, more likely, he had been holding that position for awhile now and was growing tired.

'Last chance,' the guard commanded. 'Let the woman go or I'll put one in your head.'

In response, the crazed-looking man positioned himself so that he was even more obstructed from a clear line of fire by the woman's body. Albert glanced from the man, to his hostage, to the guard, to the shaking rifle. Sweat was beginning to drip down the guard's face.

Albert looked at the woman. She too was covered in sweat, but probably more out of fear. Her eyes were filled with tears and as Albert watched, images of the two women in Garl's camp came flashing to the fore of his memory. He had failed the first woman. He had been caught off guard and hadn't even thought of trying anything that might have saved her life. This woman, like the other, was now on the verge of having her brains blown out. He couldn't allow it to happen. Not again. He stepped in.

'Let me try,' he said, putting a hand gently on top of the barrel of the rifle.

'Raiders can't be reasoned with,' the guard said through gritted teeth.

'Your only other options seem to be "open fire and likely hit the woman" or "eventually drop your rifle and maybe get shot for your efforts",' said Albert. 'Where's your backup?'

'He says he'll shoot her if another guard shows up,' the guard replied.

'So let me try then. At least it'll give your arms some rest and, if I fail, you can always go back to what you were doing before.'

Just then, Theresa broke through the crowds, putting her hand on Albert's shoulder to stop him.

'What are you doing?' she whispered with great urgency. 'This isn't our business.'

Albert glanced back at the person the guard had identified as a raider. He looked again into the man's frantic eyes. He had only seen that look once or twice in his short career as a marriage counselor back in the Vault. It had only happened when marital stresses got so great that the husband or wife reached the verge of doing something not only irrational but possibly harmful as well. Now this raider had that look, only three times wilder.

'If I don't do anything, this woman could die,' he said.

'If you do something, _you _could die,' she argued. 'You've said the last time you intervened, there were still consequences that haven't been resolved. Do you want that to happen again?'

'That was different. That involved the whole group.'

'So does this. If you die, we lose our leader.'

'That's why we have people like Natalia and you here with us.'

'Think about this, Albert.'

'I have. And I can't just walk out on this.'

Albert moved past Theresa's grasp and again rested his hand on the guard's rifle. This time, the guard resisted only a little before allowing Albert to push the barrel so it pointed harmlessly at the ground. The guard sighed, partially in resignation, partially in relief. As he rested his aching arms, Albert stepped into the line of sight of the doorway.

'That's it!' the raider yelled as Albert took a step closer. 'Don't come any closer. I'll off her! I swear!' His voice was wavering and erratic. Albert guessed he was either high on drugs or genuinely insane. The raider jerked the woman in his grasp and dug the barrel of his gun even further into her temple. She gave a scream. 'Shut up, bitch!' he shouted into her ear. She fell silent.

Albert slowly raised his hands to show he had no harmful intentions. 'There's no need for violence,' he said in as calm a voice as he could manage though his heart was beating wildly in his chest. 'You saw what I just did. I'm not interested in shedding any blood here. I only want to talk.'

'What world do you live in?' the raider mocked him. 'Out here in the real world, blood flows, man. Blood flows, and it's gonna spill all over this room if you don't get out of here!'

'I'm not here to cause more problems,' said Albert, using the same measured, gentle tone as before. 'I'm here to help. We can talk this over. Tell me what I can do to help?'

'Geez, that's funny,' the raider continued to ridicule Albert. 'Who says I want help?'

'Well, you do,' said Albert in a partially amiable tone. 'By holding this woman hostage, you're asking for help. _I _can help.'

The raider seemed momentarily unsure of himself. Albert wondered if he should say anything more but, in the end, decided to wait.

'I gotta think about this,' the raider said to buy himself more time. 'Give me a moment.'

'Take all the time you need,' Albert said patiently, his hands still raised. 'You just let me know how I can help youout.'

The seconds ticked by like hours. The raider's eyes kept darting around. Albert could tell the man was having difficulty forming coherent judgments, and realized he would need to take the initiative.

'Can I come closer?' he asked, moving slowly forward as he spoke.

'Stay back!' the raider blurted suddenly. 'I don't want to hurt her, but I will.'

'Okay,' said Albert, ceasing his advance. 'Why do you want to hurt her?'

The raider pushed his gun further against the woman's forehead, forcing her head to the side. She grimaced and whimpered in pain. 'She laughed at me,' he said eventually, his voice growing a little more hysterical than it already was. 'They all laughed at me…' he glanced around the floor as if he were reliving the memories in his mind. Then he suddenly tightened the hold he had on the woman's neck with his other hand. 'I'll make 'em pay, I swear!' he growled, though this time his anger was clearly directed not at Albert but at the woman. The woman struggled to breathe and, in frustration, the raider gave a small but painful clubbing with the handle of the gun. She gave a small yelp, then was silent again.

'It looks to me like she's learnt her lesson,' said Albert. 'But you're in charge here. And I trust you. Let's work through this, okay?'

The raider looked away from the woman and, for the first time, his eyes focused completely on Albert's own. 'You… sound like an all right kind of guy,' he said, sounding more lucid than he had been so far. 'No one ever wanted to help me before.'

'Everybody could use a little help now and then.'

'So… where do we go from here?'

'You tell me. You're in charge.'

The man gave some thought to his demands. At the same time, Albert noticed that his grip on the woman had eased just a little and he was no longer hurting her with the barrel of his gun.

'Okay, I got it,' said the man. 'I want some caps, and I want to get out of here peacefully. No one follows me.'

'No caps,' Albert said straightforwardly. 'But you can just walk away. No one will do anything. I promise.' Albert hoped his undisguised but simple assertiveness was the right move to make. Fortunately, the man had been convinced enough by Albert that he was in charge and that Albert was genuinely wanting to help him that he did not pick up on Albert's sudden but subtle control of the situation. The raider gave the conditions some thought but, by the time he look back at Albert, it was clear that he was agreeable to the situation.

'That's okay, I guess,' he said finally in what almost sounded like a sigh of release. He released the woman from his grip. The woman ran forward, away from her captor and into Albert's arms. Albert couldn't help but notice the feel of her ample bosom as she nearly crushed him in an embrace that was overflowing with gratitude. Still stuck in her embrace, Albert watched as the raider quickly gathered his things and left the room. The crowd parted before him and allowed him to head to the exit.

It was then that Albert realized that the Junktown guard had vanished. His puzzlement lasted only a second before it all became swiftly clear to him. As the raider stepped out of the open doorway to the Crash House, Albert saw the butt of a rifle come cracking down against the man's head. The raider collapsed with a cry of pain. Albert gave a small curse, and with some difficulty, managed to pry himself loose from the prostitute's grasp. By the time he had made it to the exit, the Junktown guard already gotten the handcuffs around the raider's wrists. He was far from gentle.

'You promised!' the raider screamed in rage as he saw Albert coming up through doorway from within.

'I gave the man my word!' Albert shouted at the guard. Then he looked up and realized that the heavily-muscled, mustached guard whom he had seen the day before, when they had entered Junktown, was also present. He had his own handgun out, aimed at the raider's head.

'This man is a guilty of two attempted raids on Junktown and three raids on outlying settlements in the Hub,' said the man as the other guard, who had clobbered the raider, struggled to get the man on his feet. 'He is also guilty of assault with intent to maim,' the mustached guard continued.

'He also gave up his hostage voluntarily without causing any actual harm.'

'And I hear from my colleague that we have you to thank for that.'

'You can thank me by letting this man go!' Albert insisted.

'This man is a criminal,' the guard retorted. 'If we let him go, he's just going to raid another settlement.'

'This isn't right,' Albert growled in frustration.

'You promised!' the raider yelled again.

'Shut up!' the first guard shouted as he hoisted the man unwillingly to his feet and began to march him off to the town jail.

Albert realized he was fast running out of options. Soon it would be too late to do anything for the man to whom he had given his word and who had, in return, given his trust. Albert knew he couldn't stand by and do nothing. Before he could even think through what he was doing, Albert had drawn his gun. In the next moment, he had the mustached guard's head at point-blank range.

'You're making a big mistake,' the guard warned.

'Tell your man to take off the cuffs and let him go,' said Albert, trying to sound as confident as he possibly could given what he had just done.

'Do you know what the penalty is for threatening an officer of the Law?'

'An officer of the Law respects the number one Law of them all: a man's word. If you can't respect that, then you're no officer of the Law to me, and I don't have any problems killing scumbags. Now. Tell your man to release him.' To emphasize his point, Albert pushed the mouth of his gun against the guard's head with enough force to cause discomfort.

The guard hesitated before finally ordering the release of the raider.

'Get out of here,' said Albert to the raider. The raider got up, dusted his knees, and gazed at Albert with a mixture of wonder and gratitude. As he picked up his bag, Albert spoke again. 'I wasn't lying when I said I was going to help you,' he said. 'But if I ever find out that you've been raiding other settlements and killing people, I will personally come after you and put a bullet in your head, just like I did with Garl and his Khans.' The man's look of wonder and amazement changed to one of fear and, at the same time, respect. 'Now go,' said Albert. 'I'll cover them until you're out.'

The man, to Albert's surprise, gave a small bow and quickly walked towards the direction of the only exit to Junktown. With the guard still at gunpoint, Albert followed to make sure the man made it out without further harassment. The good thing about following was that Albert and _his _hostage attracted all the attention and no one really bothered or thought to stop the escaping man. The bad thing was that once the raider had exited the town, over half a dozen guards had Albert surrounded with their own weapons trained on him.

'Now what?' said his captive, sounding far from worried. 'You've got no way out now.'

'Of course I do,' Albert said nonchalantly, though he felt anything but.

'What are you talking about?' the man asked skeptically. To his surprise, Albert lowered his weapon.

'I'm working for the mayor,' Albert said simply.

* * *

><p>'Are you out of your fucking mind?' Theresa screamed at him when the big mess had finally been cleared up. It was the first time she had been able to speak with him since the event at the Crash House.<p>

'So let me get this straight,' said Alex. 'You convinced a drug-induced criminal to release his hostage, thus saving the hooker's life, then you helped him get away by pulling a _gun _on a law enforcer… and not just _any _law enforcer but Killian's second-in-command and chief of the Junktown guards… and _then_, to get yourself _out _of that mess, you agreed to help Killian get dirt on the town's most dangerous person by volunteering to wear a wire and tape the mob boss' confession.'

'It worked, didn't it? And he's not a mob boss,' Albert sighed, rubbing his temples in response to the headache that had started growing since he first made the decision to threaten a security officer.

'That's beside the point!' Theresa said, horrified. 'Why would you even do all that for a raider, _especially _after what you told me? How do you know he's not just going to use his newfound freedom to go find someone to kill or rape?'

'You're right, I don't,' Albert replied. 'But here's what would have happened if I had allowed him to be arrested. He would have spent some time in jail, and then would have either gotten released or escaped. I spoke to Killian. The man's never been formally accused of actually killing anybody, even in the previous raids that he was part of. That means he would have come out in a few months. What happens then? In place of a raider who has the opportunity to change his life, we have a raider who now has even more trust issues than before. The next time he faces a situation like the one he was just in, he'll pull the trigger without a moment's hesitation.'

'Well I hope you can live with the consequences.'

'I hope so too,' said Albert, taking Theresa's statement more literally.

Theresa exhaled heavily. 'So when are you going to go?' she said with resignation in her voice.

'Tomorrow,' said Albert.

'I'll come with you.'

'No.' Albert's response was immediate. 'If things _do _go sour, I don't want Gizmo to have any reason to associate my actions with any one of you.'

'Albert!' she choked out the word in exasperation. 'Do you expect me to just stand by while you risk your life?'

'What I expect is for you to work with Natalia on getting that water chip back to the Vault if I don't make it.'

'Ugh!' Theresa threw her hands in the air in frustration and stormed off.

'You can all leave now,' Albert said to the rest when no one else seemed prepared to break the silence created upon Theresa's departure. 'We're going to be here at least another night, so see what else you can find out about water chips and vaults.'

As the rest of the group dispersed, Albert dropped his head into the palms of his hands as he sat on the bed in his room. What had he gotten himself into now? Yet, even as he posed the question to himself, he realized that he could think of no other way he could have reacted to what had happened earlier. He couldn't have let the prostitute be killed by the raider, and he couldn't just have stood by and watched the raider get tossed into jail, not after voluntarily releasing the woman. _No_, Albert told himself. _This was the right thing to do_.

He laughed at the thought. Never in his entire life would he have thought he might one day consider "the right thing" to involve pulling a gun on an officer of the Law. This world really _was_ a messed up place. There was no doubt it about it. And it was messing him up as well.

He felt a hand gently rest itself on his shoulder.

'I'll be fine,' he said without looking up, surprised that there was still someone in the room besides himself. He placed his fingers over the hand and then realized that it didn't belong to the person he had expected. He looked up to find not Theresa but Natalia sitting next to him. He quickly removed his hand from hers. She removed hers from his shoulder.

'Theresa's not the only one who's worried,' she said truthfully.

'If you're trying to convince me not to do this, don't bother,' he said. 'Even if I wanted to, there's no going back now. Not after threatening a Junktown guard. Killian himself wasn't too happy at that stunt. Now he's got some PR to do with the people of Junktown to explain my actions.'

'I wasn't going to try,' Natalia said. 'You were there for me when I needed it. I just wanted to let you know that I'm here if you want me.'

'I…'

'Sorry. Wrong choice of words.' Natalia said quickly. 'But you know what I meant.'

Albert gave her a warm smile that was tempered only by his anxiety. 'I'll be fine. Really,' he repeated.

'Okay,' Natalia smiled back. She placed her hand on his shoulder again, but this time just to give a short, reassuring squeeze. Then she walked out of the room.

Albert remained unmoving for another half hour as he started thinking about the next day. First, he had to enter the casino as if he knew what he was doing. Then, he would somehow have to get an audience with Gizmo. And _then_, wearing the wire Killian would give him, he would then have to try and wheedle out a confession of Gizmo's earlier plans to assassinate Killian _without _tipping Gizmo off. And what if they did a pat down and found the wire? Of course, there was still the option of planting the bug but there would unlikely be any opportunity to place the bug anywhere in the room without someone noticing, especially since everyone's eyes would be on him. Albert thought briefly of bringing an accomplice and having that person plant a bug while he drew all the attention – someone with dexterous hands like Natalia. But he quickly discarded that thought. This was his mess and he wouldn't get anyone involved if he could help it, _especially _not Natalia. Not again. And besides, even if she could place the bug, there would be no guarantee Gizmo would confess. He needed a prompter – someone to lead him into inadvertently revealing how he had hired those two goons to kill Killian.

So that brought the problem back to the wire. How to react if he got caught with it? From what Killian had told him when he had agreed to help, Gizmo was mostly immobile owing to his tremendous obesity. The most immediate threat would come from his guards and, in particular, his bodyguard named Izo – a giant-of-a-man, standing at over six-and-a-half feet, who reputedly had highly honed martial arts skills and who, according to the rumors, had gotten rid of more than a dozen people who had landed on Gizmo's bad side over the years. There was just no way out if they found him with the wire. So how to make sure they didn't check him? How to get himself an audience with the man responsible for most of the crime in the town while at the same time avoiding being frisked?

A knock on the door broke Albert's concentration.

'Come in,' he said. Who would it be this time? Maybe Ian, although Albert doubted it. Ian was probably the only one who really thought this was the way to go, if only because it was a legit way of earning payment. But Ian probably also had more faith in him than Albert himself did. So there was little reason for Ian to be back; Ian didn't seem like the kind of person to use the room for anything other than sleeping at night. Maybe it was Theresa, then? Albert really wanted to straighten things out with her. He knew she was concerned for his wellbeing but there was just no way he would involve her with this. And that had pissed her off. Seriously. Back in the vault, they had gotten into disagreements before, some pretty heated, but she had never actually _walked away _from an argument before. They needed to talk about this.

The door opened and Albert stood up expecting Theresa. Again, however, he was surprised. This time, the visitor was none other than the voluptuous woman he had saved from the raider earlier that morning. Upon entry, the woman reached behind and shut the door.

'What… can I do for you?' he asked, a little uncertainly.

I just… wanted to thank you for what you did earlier today. No one ever took care of me like that before,' she said.

'Well. You're welcome,' Albert said with no small discomfort. 'It was nothing. Really.' He turned walked over to his locker so he wouldn't have to be staring at her well-endowed figure. He opened his locker and pretended to rifle busily through his things, looking for an imaginary object.

'I mean, my boss didn't even send some of his goons to help,' she said from behind him. 'You'd think for all the cash I make for that loser, he would at least live up to his part of the bargain.'

Albert froze. 'Who… is your boss?' he asked, turning around.

'Gizmo, of course,' she replied. 'He runs all the sin in this town. Killian sure as hell wouldn't put up with me or my kind.'

'So all your work is part of your employment under Gizmo…'

'Not entirely. Some of the other girls don't have it so lucky. If it wasn't for the fact that I make Giz a whole hell of a lot of money, I'd have to do other things to him. And, honey, those thoughts just don't do my stomach a whole lot of good.'

'Everyday I'm learning of more things he has his fingers in. What else does he control?'

'Just about every bad thing a person could do in this town. He owns the Casino, he runs me and some of the other gals, even some little kids…' Albert did a double take.

'You mean "kids" as in pickpockets and errand boys, right?' he said.

The woman shook her head and gave him a look that said it all.

'What the hell…' Albert swore at nothing in particular, not sure how to process this new bit of information. 'And people actually go for this kind of thing?'

'More than you or I would like to know,' she replied.

Albert groaned rubbed his temples, trying not to show his revulsion. 'And the bar… He wants that as well…' she nodded. 'And Killian too I suppose.' Albert dropped the name in as casual a way as he could muster.

'Sure. Giz has always wanted to… take care of Killian, if you get my meaning.'

'Has he tried?' he said, hoping for something concrete.

'I'm sure he probably has. It's just no one can prove it. All I hear are the rumors.'

Albert cursed mentality, though he realized that it had been too much to hope that the woman might somehow be able to provide the evidence he needed against Gizmo. She caught his expression.

'You're not trying to go up against Giz, are you?' she asked, a trace of fear in her voice.

'I'm going to be… speaking with him,' said Albert, reluctant to reveal too much. 'And I could use as much information as possible about him.'

'That's _all _you want?' she said provocatively.

'For now, yes,' he affirmed quickly.

'Alright,' she agreed, 'though I _was _going to give you one for free for saving me.'

Albert gulped inwardly. He couldn't deny that he was physically attracted to her and it didn't help _at all _that she was practically throwing herself at him. He tried thinking of Theresa but that didn't help either given how their last conversation had ended. He gave himself a few breaths to calm down. The woman wasn't interested in that. She walked right up to him and pressed herself against his chest, slowly throwing her arms around him. Second by second, it was getting increasingly harder to resist her substantial charms.

'My name's Sinthia,' she breathed into his ear before moving her mouth closer and closer to his.

'Maybe… another… time,' he finally managed to say.

'If you insist,' she said, pulling away at a tantalizingly slow pace. Albert felt a sense of loss for a brief moment as they broke contact, but was glad he had held onto his convictions. 'So what do you want to know?' she said, lying on the bed instead and effortlessly striking a casual yet seductive pose.

'How many guards does he have?'

'Hmm,' she said, tapping her full lips with an index finger. 'I know about eight personally, if you get my meaning. But I think he has another ten or so.'

'How many operate within the casino at any one time?'

Sinthia thought about the question for a moment. 'Let's see. Two at the entrance… two more in the first room, two in the second, two in his office… I know they take shifts, so there are probably another eight off-duty. Then I guess he has another two or three others who accompany him whenever he's out of his office. And then there's that bodyguard of his. Sticks to him like glue.'

'How are they armed?'

'Mostly pistols, I guess. I haven't really seen any other kind.'

'Is Gizmo _ever_ alone?' The worrying thought of walking into a meeting with the casino owner while wearing a wire was progressively building on Albert and he knew that if he could just get the man alone, the prospect of getting searched would become a non-issue. It was partly for ease of mind but it was primarily so he wouldn't end up like that boxer from the night before.

'Gizmo's _always _alone, sugar.'

'Physically I mean.'

'Maybe when he's taking a crap. But even then, he's got at least one or two guards waiting for him outside. I'm sure glad that's not _my _responsibility… Wait a minute. You're… planning to _kill_ him…' Her eyes widened.

'Nonsense. I just want to know what I'm getting into. I would have rather talked to him mano-a-mano, if that had been at all possible… Does he have _any _weaknesses at all?'

'Only that he thinks he doesn't have any. Well, that and he's a fat slob who can't move for a damn. He's got to have his guards help him move around. Even then, they gotta use a little tricycle.' Sinthia audibly smirked at the mental image.

'Well, that's something at least.'

'The tricycle?'

'No, the overconfidence.'

* * *

><p>Outside, Alex leaned against the wall next to the door to Albert and Ian's room.<p>

'It should be me in there,' he said dejectedly.

A few feet away Natalia sat on one of the makeshift couches in the lounge area, her gaze directed at the pitted floor. She didn't comment on Alex's statement but, for the first time, found similar thoughts emerging in her mind. She recalled how Albert had washed the blood off her hands. She remembered resting her head against his chest. She relived those moments when her world had shattered and he had been there, silent but comforting.

And then she remembered Theresa and the time Albert had spent together with her not only a few days ago but also long before the water chip had stopped working. And now there was this woman. Natalia wasn't sure what was going to happen between Albert and Theresa after their little fight earlier, but the entrance of the prostitute into the picture could only complicate, not improve, matters. Natalia heaved a heavy sigh and shook her head to clear it.

Alex had moved over to the door now and was pressing his ear against it. He cast a brief glance at Natalia. 'Don't you want to know what's going on in there?' he said.

'No. I don't,' Natalia said as if berating a younger sibling. 'You go ahead if you want. I'm leaving.'

* * *

><p>When Albert was done talking to Sinthia, he escorted her to the door. He heard a brief commotion and opened the door to find Alex desperately trying to look like he was doing something extremely important, even though that merely involved him leaning against the wall by the door, stroking his chin thoughtfully, and staring off into space.<p>

'Heard anything you like?' Albert said.

'Wh—no nothing. Nothing at all. I… _There was nothing to hear_!'

Sinthia walked past Albert, allowing one finger to stroke its way along his jaw line as she did so. 'Remember my offer,' she purred. As she made her way back to her room, she cast a coy glance at Alex who made no effort to conceal his visual undressing of her.

'How could you not tap that?' Alex whispered harshly and rapidly to Albert, his eyes still on Sinthia's rump.

'I've got other things to worry about,' Albert said, and walked off.

'You think she'll go for me?' Alex called after him.

'I _think_ her going rate's a hundred caps an hour. If you want to blow off that many, that's your business, but it's not coming out of the group fund.'

For the rest of the afternoon, Albert wandered around town, trying to think up every possible scenario that might occur when he faced Gizmo. The more he thought about it, the greater the temptation became to call on his friends to support him. For all his planning, Albert realized that the notion of confronting Gizmo was becoming harder, not easier.

He fished into his pocket and counted his caps. After setting aside a hundred caps for group expenses, he had, with the help of Theresa and Natalia, divided the remainder between all six of them for daily expenses including meals. Anything above that meant that they would have to find temporary work to earn their own way. Like Shady Sands, Junktown had its own (and far larger) farmlands and brahma herds and, according to Ian, additional hands were always in demand. But if they stuck to their plan and stayed for just a few days, none of that should be necessary, at least as long as a paid visit to Sinthia wasn't part of the package.

Albert counted twenty caps and bought himself an iguana-on-a-stick from a nearby outdoor vendor. Then he found one of the many little communal areas nearby and sat down to enjoy his iguana. No one else was there at the moment. The seats, all arranged around an old, empty, steel barrel that was used to burn paper and other flaming refuse to provide warmth and light at night, now sat empty – which was just fine by Albert.

Aside from the lady at the stall who had sold him the snack, the only other person Albert could see was a man standing some distance away, his focus on the entrance of one of the houses nearby. As Albert bit into the hind quarters of the roasted iguana, he watched with amusement at the sight of the man who appeared to be moving very cautiously and stealthily towards the door of the house, as if he didn't want someone or something to know what he was up to.

He had almost made it to the door when Albert heard a very audible snarl from inside the house, followed by three loud barks. The man turned tail and fled. From the doorway emerged a dust-grey Australian cattle dog, its teeth bared, a growl deep in its throat. It took a few steps out of the doorway but didn't seem interested in pursuing the man. To Albert's surprise, the dog lowered itself on its haunches and sat down at the entrance as if it were specifically guarding the place. The man, who had stopped running and was watching from a distance, swore in frustration and exasperation.

'Ah, poor Phil,' Albert heard the lady at the vendor say.

'What's going on there?' Albert asked from his seat.

'Phil's been trying to get back into his house for days now but that dog won't let him in.'

'Is it his dog?'

The woman shook her head. 'Belonged to a traveler who rented one of Phil's rooms.'

'That _traveler_,' said Phil, overhearing their conversation and walking over, 'was an asshole. Got himself killed. His dog got pissed. Plopped its furry ass down on my doorstep and wouldn't leave.'

'How'd it's owner die?' Albert asked.

'The usual. Stranger comes in from the desert. Thinks he'll make a coupla hundred caps by offering his services to Killian. Tries to interfere with Gizmo's business…'

Albert didn't like where this was going, all things considered. 'So Gizmo killed him?' he asked.

'Got a couple of boys to beat him up and throw him from the casino roof. Broke his damnfool neck and died… although… although you didn't hear that from me.'

'Great. Just what I wanted to hear,' Albert said, more to himself than Phil. His free hand dragged its way through his hair. The pressure just kept climbing and he was starting to think that it'd only be a matter of time until he started sweating blood.

'Hey, I notice you've got a gun,' said Phil, seemingly out of the blue. Albert looked up to find Phil eyeing his sidearm.

'What of it?' Albert asked wearily.

'I'll pay you if you shoot that dog for me.'

'I'm in enough trouble with the law as it is,' Albert said in that same tired voice. 'The last thing I need is another excuse for the guards to arrest me.'

'You can say it was in self defense! That dog's a mean son-of-a-bitch. They'll understand!' Albert didn't seem like he was about to take the bait. 'I'd do it myself but my shotgun's in the house…' Albert still didn't react. 'Okay, okay. I got it. _Lend _me the gun, and I'll plug the mutt myself.'

'Look, I'm not lending you my gun so you can kill a dog in cold blood,' said Albert, showing his impatience for the first time. 'Why don't you just chase it away with a stick or something?'

'That's… what got me on its bad side in the first place,' said Phil. 'And I tell you, that dog holds grudges.'

'Maybe he's just hungry,' said Albert.

'I tried luring it away with food. Didn't work. Bought it a prime cut of brahmin beef and dropped it off in front of the dog's eyes. Mutt didn't even go for it.'

'Do you think it understands what you're saying?' the woman interrupted the two men's conversation.

Phil gave a short laugh. 'What makes you say that?' he asked.

'Because he's looking at the both of you right now.'

The two men turned. Sure enough, thirty yards away, the dog was watching their conversation.

'He's _always _looking at me,' said Phil.

'Why don't you give it a rest,' said the woman. 'Just for awhile. Maybe in a few hours the dog will just get bored and leave.'

'I doubt it, but I guess…' Phil gazed up at the sky, glancing at the position of the sun. 'I guess I could take some time off. The game should be starting soon.'

'Really?' the woman asked. 'I completely lost track of the—' A bell tolled three times from the direction of the boxing ring behind the casino. 'Oh, shit,' she said. 'Gotta go.' She started rapidly packing up the boxes at her stall. 'Sorry,' she said to Albert. 'I've got money on this next game.'

As she finished up her packing, she closer the doors to the front of her stall and locked up before running off. Phil glanced back once at his entrance where the dog was still seated, then turned and headed off after the woman.

Albert went back to his ruminations. It seemed like he just couldn't get away from Gizmo. The fat man was everywhere. He was behind the attempted assassination of Killian, he was behind the ruckus in the Skum Pitt the previous night, he was probably behind the killing of the fighter who had cheated, and now he was behind the death of this dog's owner.

_Thrown from the top of the casino roof…_

Albert added the new prospective scenario to his already sizeable mental list of possibilities. What if the dog's owner had tried the same trick with the tape? What if it was that that had gotten himself busted? Killian would be the best person to ask about that.

Albert was about to get up to head over to Killian's store when he noticed movement at the corner of his eye. He turned and, to his great shock, found the dog standing right beside him.

Albert gave a yelp of surprise and fell back off his seat onto the dusty ground. His hand reached for his gun and then stopped. The dog was staring directly at him but without any of that ferocity it had reserved for Phil. Its head was cocked as if it somehow found Albert's reaction both curious and amusing at the same time. Albert slowly got back to his feet. The dog didn't move.

'Was there… something you wanted?' Albert asked. In response, the dog made a series of musical half-barks half-whines, almost as if it were communicating with him. 'I'm afraid… I don't know what that means,' said Albert, slowly taking his seat again. He glanced at the stick of iguana in his hand and then offered it to the dog. The canine moved closer and started chewing off pieces of the iguana.

'Do you know, I wonder?' Albert said to the dog as he watched it eat almost directly from his hand. 'I could be in the exact same position your master is in a day from now.' As he looked the dog over, Albert realized that the dog had quite a number of scars where its fur hadn't grown back, particularly along its back and flanks. Some of the scars looked like old gunshot wounds. 'You look like you've been through a lot,' Albert mused as the dog continued to feed on the iguana. The sound of footsteps interrupted Albert's thoughts and, a moment later, he saw Phil come marching back.

'I forgot to ask you, I—' whatever Phil was about to ask was lost as he came to a full stop, staring at disbelief at the dog that was still busily eating the last bits of iguana from the stick in Albert's hand. 'How did you…?'

'I didn't do anything,' Albert said truthfully. 'Maybe it just… sees some similarity between me and its former master.'

'Well, you certainly look the part,' Phil admitted.

Albert glanced down at himself. He had left Garl's metal half-suit in his locker and was now only dressed in his black leather jacket and jeans.

'So what was it you were going to ask me?' said Albert.

'Not important anymore,' said Phil as he walked over to his home, his gaze glued onto the dog lest it make a dash for him. When he finally reached the front door, he gave a sigh that was audible even from where Albert was sitting. He went inside.

A minute later, Phil emerged carrying a shotgun.

'Whoa whoa whoa!' said Albert standing up. The dog noticed Phil's approach, dropped the remnants of the iguana from its jaws and growled.

'I _said _I was going to plug that mutt,' said Phil, 'now stand aside.'

'You said you'd pay me for helping you out. This is my payment: leave the dog alone.'

Phil stared down the barrel at the dog for a few more seconds before finally relenting. 'Fine,' he said, 'but you get it through its thick skull that if it tries to enter my house again, it's dog meat!' With that, Phil marched back to his house.

Once Phil had left, the dog dropped its aggressive stance and glanced up at Albert, almost as if it were looking for approval of its actions. Albert, to his own surprise, let his hand graze over the dog's head and scratched it behind its ears. The dog reacted by wagging its tail happily.

'You hear that?' Albert said, staring the dog directly in its eyes. 'He called you dogmeat.' The dog barked, its tail still wagging. 'Like that, do you?' Albert said, smiling for the first time he could remember since the events of the morning. The dog barked again. 'Kind of ironic if you ask me.' Albert resumed his seat. The dog followed him and sat down on its haunches beside him.

'So what do you think I should do?' Albert asked. The dog cocked its head again. Albert was becoming increasingly convinced that the dog somehow understood him. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking but the dog certainly understood _something_. And it made him feel better to talk to someone… someone who didn't talk back and call him crazy. 'You'd probably be pretty happy about it,' said Albert. 'I'm going after the guy who killed your former master.'

'Are you… talking to that dog?' he heard a familiar voice. He turned to see Ian coming up to him. The dog got up from its sitting posture but didn't react aggressively towards Ian.

'He's good to talk to,' said Albert. 'Doesn't try to offer me advice I already know.'

'What's his name?'

'I don't know… Dogmeat, I guess.'

'Dogmeat? Who gave him _that _name?'

'He did.' Ian gave him a skeptical look. 'So what have _you _been up to,' said Albert, ignoring Ian's look.

'Once you've been to Junktown often enough, you know where there's work that needs doing and who's willing to pay to get it done. Travelling with you's fun and all, but we _did _give most of our loot from the Khans over to Shady Sands.'

'It _was_ mostly theirs to begin with.'

'I know, I know. But a man does need some extra disposable income for the little pleasures in life every once in awhile – more than just the allowance money you dished out. But what about you? How are _you_ holding up?'

It was Albert's turn to sigh. 'The more I think about this, the worse my resolve gets.'

'You may want to just go get it done,' said Ian. Albert looked at him in surprise. 'I know that sounds harsh,' said Ian. 'But really, that's the best advice I can give to you if for no other reason than this: the longer you hang around, the sooner one of Gizmo's people is going to notice you and get suspicious when you _do _show up. If you want to take Gizmo for a ride… so to speak… you can't give him _any _leverage on you.'

It took a few seconds before it finally sunk in and Albert stood straight up in sudden realization. 'Holy crap, you're right,' he exclaimed. 'I've been moping around the entire day and… I never thought about who might be watching. I…' Albert clenched his fists and steeled his resolve. 'Alright. I'm going. No more waiting around.' He turned to Ian and his expression faded for a moment. 'If I don't make it back…'

'_Just _focus on what you're doing,' said Ian seriously.

Albert nodded. 'Look after the dog, will you?' he said. 'He seems to like iguanas.'

* * *

><p>Albert had never been to the casino. He had walked past the boxing ring and had spent his fair share of time at the Skum Pitt, neither of which was too far away from the casino, but he hadn't actually walked up to Gizmo's establishment itself. Now he stood before the casino logo – a neon sign of the word 'Gizmo's' attached to a large electric motor that kept it slowly and endlessly rotating. It was another pre-War relic, probably once belonging to some mechanic's shop or something. Whatever its origins, it certainly was strange to see electrical power at work in the Wasteland. Whatever (and however) it took to power it, whether by solar power or gas-powered generator or something else entirely, Albert had to admit that it was a good investment. It was undoubtedly eye-catching. It also explained where Gizmo had gotten his otherwise strange sounding name; it was certainly a surefire way to get people to know your name, or at least the name you had chosen for yourself.<p>

When Albert stepped past the two guards at the entrance to the casino and into the main room, almost everyone stopped to stare. For a moment, he regretted having retrieved Garl's metal chest piece from his room locker for this occasion. But he had chosen to wear it not only to make a statement – something it was most certainly doing – but also to conceal the tape recorder that now pressed uncomfortably against his chest, compressed as it was by the metal plates of the chest piece. The only way a frisk would show up anything would be if they forced him to remove his clothes… he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

_Play it cool_, Albert told himself as he walked past the rows of slot machines, craps tables, and roulette tables, and headed straight towards the guarded door at the end of the room. One of the guards stepped up to him and crossed his arms over his chest.

'Private room,' he told Albert. 'By invitation only.'

'I'm inviting myself,' Albert said simply. 'Your boss is going to want to talk to me.'

'And why would he—'

'It's about Killian.'

That was enough. The guard told Albert to wait, turned and left through the door behind him. Two minutes later the guard returned.

'Gizmo will see you,' said the guard, 'but I'll have to search you before I let you pass.'

Albert gave him a cynical look. 'If your boss knows what I'm talking about when I mentioned Killian, then he knows I'm not stupid enough to walk into his office unarmed.' With that, Albert took a gamble and strode through the still open doorway into the private room beyond.

'Hey!' the guard behind him yelled, pulling out his own gun. Albert ignored him and continued walking to the other door at the end of the private room. 'Hey! I'm talking to you! Take another step and I'll blow your brains all over the room!'

Outside, in the main room, everything went suddenly quiet. People stopped in the middle of their various gambling activities to see what the commotion was all about. Albert gave a half-turn.

'I've got important information for Gizmo,' he said. 'Do you really want to take that chance?' The man relented.

Albert stepped through the next door and found himself staring at a six-and-a-half-foot tall man blocking the doorway. A quick visual appraisal confirmed Killian's description of the man – he clearly had the stance and musculature of a master martial artist. And that meant that it would be a bad idea to draw his weapon on the man, certainly not this close. The cocky trigger happy bluff he had used with Garl's raiders and with Lars, the leader of the Junktown guards, earlier wouldn't work here. The last thing he needed was to risk being disarmed in the presence of Gizmo. Not only would it render him defenseless but it would, more importantly, show that he was weak.

'Your boss wants to see me,' he said straightforwardly to the large man.

'Y'know, I don't like people barging in here and disobeying my rules,' came a greasy, sinister-sounding voice from behind Izo's back. Izo stepped aside to reveal what was easily the most corpulent individual Albert had ever laid eyes on. Gizmo, the casino owner, sat behind a mahogany desk, his enormous arms resting heavily on the expensive wood surface. He had graying hair around his ears but, otherwise, was mostly bald. The white long-sleeved shirt, unbuttoned brown suit vest, and red tie that he wore were all clearly meant for someone several sizes smaller. 'It makes people think they can get away with things,' the fat man finished his sentence, his heavyset jowls quivering as he spoke. If he was in any way impressed or cowed by Albert's desert armor, he didn't show it.

'I didn't have time to waste,' said Albert. 'I'm a busy man.' He stepped into the room and noticed two more guards flanking him at the doorway, one on each side. The room was long and rectangular, ending at Gizmo's desk. Only the wall to his back had windows. The right wall had two doors, maybe to a bedroom and bathroom. Given Gizmo's issues with mobility, Albert guessed Gizmo worked, slept, ate, and shat all within crawling distance of each other.

'As am I,' Gizmo retorted. 'What do you want?'

'I'm here to tell you your assassins failed.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Gizmo said dismissively. 'And,' he added dangerously, 'I don't take kindly to people coming in here and accusing me of things…'

'Alright, let's take a hypothetical situation then,' said Albert.

'Such as?' Gizmo said skeptically.

'Well, let's say you _did _try and kill Killian and your assassins failed. That means you need a new one to do the job right.'

'And let me guess,' said Gizmo. 'You're that someone?'

'Very good,' said Albert. 'For a price, of course.'

Gizmo eyed him warily. 'Along that same hypothetical reasoning, if two armed men couldn't take him down, what makes you think you'll have any more luck.'

'This armor here…' Albert tapped his the metal chest piece. 'This isn't just for show. You've seen it before, I'm sure, whenever the Khans visit Junktown. I took it off Garl right after I unloaded my pistol into his face.'

Gizmo looked over the armor before coming to an agreement that this was in fact the suit of armor once worn by the leader of the Khans. 'So it was you,' he said, showing slight amusement. 'The Khans were some of my biggest customers. You've done me a disservice by wiping them out.'

'I do what the money tells me to do,' said Albert. 'And if the money tells me right, you could just be free of Killian by tomorrow.'

Gizmo appeared to give it a moment's thought. 'Let's say I _were_ looking for someone to rid me of Killian's meddling,' he said. 'How can I trust you?'

Albert gave a bemused laugh. 'A man like you must surely have heard about what happened this morning at the Crash House,' he said. 'Do you think I have any love for the so-called Law around here? Look at it this way: I'm here and you need someone from out of town to do your dirty work.'

'Hmm…' Gizmo rubbed the loose flesh of his cheeks thoughtfully. 'Alright,' he said finally. 'We can do this. But you work for _me_. You better know that nobody _ever _double-crosses Gizmo and lives to talk about it. You got me?'

'Got it,' Albert replied nonchalantly. 'But let's talk caps.'

'I'll give you what I offered the other two. One thousand caps total, two hundred up front.'

Albert shook his head. 'My services aren't cheap and you need someone who can actually get the job done. One-thousand-five-hundred.'

'If it's going to be a-thousand-five, then it's upon completion only,' said Gizmo without batting an eyelid.

'Done,' said Albert. 'He'll be dead before sundown.'

'Good,' said Gizmo. 'Return with the dog tags he wears around his neck as proof. And we never had this conversation.' Gizmo leaned forward on his elbows and raised his index finger to make his point. 'You don't mention this to _anyone_. No one double-crosses me. No one.'

* * *

><p>Outside the casino, Albert had to stop to breathe. He couldn't believe it. It had really worked! Gizmo had been so overconfident about the weight of his threats that he hadn't even bothered to ask Albert how he had gotten himself out of the standoff with the guards earlier that morning. Albert realized he had made a mistake revealing that, or at least bringing attention to it. Anyone who thought it through would have come to the conclusion that Albert must have made some kind of deal with Killian. Fortunately, Gizmo had overlooked it. Now Albert just hoped the tape recorder had picked up their conversation. He had positioned it so the microphone was close to the neck of his suit of armor. So long as his pounding heartbeat hadn't messed up the recording, it should be fine.<p>

Finding an alleyway between two houses, Albert was about to remove the tape and replay it when he heard footsteps nearby. He quickly stuffed the tape back down the front of his chest piece just as a familiar figure stepped into the alley, blocking off the way Albert had come in. Albert recognized the man; it was difficult not to. The man's teeth, filed to sharp points, gave him away.

'Alleys are for doing things you don't want others to see,' said the man, grinning in a disconcerting manner. 'What don't you want others to see I wonder…?' The man started walking down the alley towards Albert. Albert glanced quickly behind him and saw another man coming in from the other end. He was trapped.

'Gizmo wanted us to ask you something,' said the first man, absentmindedly stroking the wicked looking blade he know held in his right hand. 'Earlier this morning, when you pulled a gun on that guard…' Albert's heard sank and he felt an uncomfortable prickly sensation on his neck and forehead as he began sweating. 'That's a serious offence… Kind of strange that they let you go just like that, don't you think?'

Albert considered pulling his gun but he knew that that would show that he had something to hide.

'Of course they let me go,' Albert said irritably. 'Who do you think paid me to get rid of the Khans? I'm a mercenary. I go wherever the money's at.'

'Maybe you're right,' said the second man, coming up behind Albert. Albert turned and saw that he too had a knife at the ready – a well-crafted, high-quality combat knife. 'But Gizmo wants us to search you all the same. He thinks you may be wearing a wire.'

'The only way you're searching me is over my dead body,' said Albert in as threatening a tone as he could manage.

'That's the idea,' said the man with filed teeth who now stood behind Albert.

Albert grabbed for his gun, already knowing he would be too late. Both men advanced and he knew he could, at the most, take only one of them.

No one expected the snarl. A split second later, the second man had been knocked to the ground, his neck clamped between the jaws of a very angry and very familiar looking dog. He screamed as the dog tore a huge chunk of flesh from the back of his neck.

Albert was stunned to paralysis for a moment but, fortunately, so was the other Skulz member with the filed teeth. Freed from having to worry about the downed Skulz, Albert recovered from his shock and spun around to face the remaining man.

Seeing his friend brutally taken down by the dog and now Albert's gun drawn to fire at himself, the man with filed teeth came to the conclusion that this wasn't a fight he could hope to win. He turned and fled.

By the time Albert turned back to the other man, he was dead, his neck a bloody mess.

'Dogmeat!' Albert cried in what he thought was a mixture of relief and horror at what had just happened. Relief quickly won over. 'You just saved my ass!' he said, dropping to his knees and ruffling the fur around the dog's neck. The canine began licking his face and Albert immediately cringed and pulled back.

'Whoa, whoa, wait one minute,' he said, offering his hand instead. 'No licking the face with that much blood all over your mouth.'

* * *

><p>Killian expressed deep concern when Albert told him of the killing, but it was more for the fact that Gizmo suspected something rather than that a Skulz member had died at the hands of Albert's newfound canine companion, especially considering that the latter had likely emerged as an indirect result of the former. On any other day, Albert guessed that, given his commitment to rules and regulations, Killian might have considered wanting to euthanize the dog for murder but, fortunately, there were bigger issues today.<p>

'Did you get the evidence, though?' Killian asked once the issue with the dead Skulz member had been put on the backburner.

'I sure did,' said Albert.

'Let's hear it.'

The two men retreated to Killian's room at the back of the general store where Albert replayed the tape. Gizmo's voice was crystal clear and clearly damning. Killian gave a satisfied smile when the tape ended.

'That's the first time I've been happy to hear his voice,' he said. He took the tape and deposited it in a safe in the wall. 'Now,' he said once he had locked the safe. 'Time for you and me to take care of the other business.'

'Well, we'll be leaving town soon,' said Albert. 'And we never did get around to buying those supplies. If you could count that as a reward—'

Killian smirked. 'That's probably a little more than the most expensive thing in the store,' he said. 'But you _have _given me the best present I've received since taking over Junktown from my dad.' He smiled at Albert. 'You have yourself a deal. Just get your friends in here and I'll have my guys fill your packs.'

* * *

><p>Ian was the easiest to locate, having had to chase down Dogmeat when the dog had raced to Albert's aid. Alex, Natalia, and Stone were all lounging around in the Crash House. Only Theresa couldn't be found and Albert was starting to get worried. No one had seen her since the morning when she had stormed out of his room. He also realized that it had been his responsibility to keep his subgroup together and he had failed. Ian more than knew how to handle himself so he naturally had free reign of the place, but Theresa…<p>

Albert was just thinking that he should leave the packing to the rest of the vault dwellers and go look for Theresa when Killian walked over to him after giving his guards the proper instructions for what supplies to fill in the vault dwellers' packs.

'Listen,' he said. 'Before I forget: I'm gonna take the guards and run Gizmo and his cronies out of town. I could use a few more guns. You up for it? Might be good for a laugh.'

Albert knew this was coming. And he also knew that he wouldn't allow what had occurred back at the Khans' camp to happen again here. They had gotten lucky the last time.

'I'll pay you the standard rate for mercenary work,' Killian continued. 'Five hundred caps a gun.'

'Five hundred caps?' said Ian enthusiastically, overhearing their conversation. 'I don't know about this man over here, but you can count me in.'

'Well, it looks like you have your man,' said Albert. He breathed an inward sigh of relief. He wasn't worried about Ian. This kind of thing was Ian's life. Besides, Ian wasn't his responsibility.

'I spoke to one of the women who works for him,' Albert said. 'She told me he has around eighteen guards in total. They take shifts so they—'

At that moment, one of Killian's guards burst in through the doorway. Killian knew what it meant. He sighed heavily.

'Who is it this time?' he asked.

'It's one of theirs,' said the guard. Albert felt a sickening lurch in his gut when he realized the guard was talking about his own group of vault dwellers.

* * *

><p>Albert gazed down at the pale face of the woman he should have kept closer to his side. She was seriously injured but alive. And they all had Doc Morbid to thank for that. Despite his sketchy sounding name, the doctor had, through quick work, cleaned and stitched the three knife wounds and transfused enough blood to save her life. The setting wasn't exactly the most sterile – they were in an enclosed section of what was once an old garage, with pipes in the corner of the room that ran directly into the ground that had long ago been used to transfer fuel from an underground tank up to the garage. The medical examination table upon which Theresa lay was also old and stained.<p>

But she was alive.

As the rest of the vault dwellers and Ian watched through the doorway from the waiting room outside, Albert, left to his own thoughts, realized where he had made a mistake. That man from the Skulz – the one with the filed teeth – he had _seen _Albert and the rest of the group together at their table that night in the Skum Pitt. So, when he had accosted Albert earlier in the alley and then fled after Dogmeat had come to the rescue, he must have simply decided to go after someone more accessible and less defensible. Albert silently cursed at himself. He should never have let Theresa out of his sight – _especially _since she didn't have a firearm of her own nor had she ever fired one.

Leaning on the table, watching Theresa's faint breathing, Albert came to another sickening realization. If Killian failed for any reason and Gizmo somehow managed to escape, there would be no doubt that he would send his people after Albert and the rest of his group. By now he must have learnt from the Skulz member that Albert had betrayed him… _None _of them was safe so long as Gizmo still lived. In order to keep his fellow vault dwellers safe, Gizmo had to die.

Albert clenched his fists. Then he looked around. Outside, in the waiting room where Doc Morbid's two guards were positioned, Albert watched the rest of the vault dwellers sitting around, wringing their hands in anxiety. He stepped out to address them. Everyone looked up.

'She's stable,' he said, to everyone's relief. 'The Doc said you may go in and see her and ask him any questions. Just don't crowd her.'

As the vault dwellers filed in to see their fallen friend, Albert stopped Stone. He whispered something into the big man's ear and got a quick reply. Albert thanked him.

'Stay with Theresa,' he said. 'And make sure no one else leaves the hospital. If they ask, Tell them I'm briefing Killian on the number and position of Gizmo's guards. I'll be back soon. No one else leaves this hospital until I or Killian return.'

With that, Albert left through the garage/hospital door. Ian and Dogmeat were already outside. Ian had guessed his intentions and what Albert would need to do to make sure none of the other vault dwellers followed him.

'You knew it would come to this, didn't you?' Albert asked as they walked back over to Killian's.

'You can't leave business unfinished,' said Ian. 'Sometimes doing the right thing means being a very bad person.'

You could have prepared me for it.'

'Are you kidding? You were already all nerves earlier this afternoon.'

Albert shook his head at his own foolishness, realizing that Ian was right. 'I need to make a short detour to the Crash House before we head back to Killian's. Marcelles is holding onto something of Stone's that I need.'

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Albert stood outside the general store with Ian, Killian, Lars, and half a dozen of his guards. Stone had kept his sidearm with him at the hospital, but the shotgun he had left with Marcelles for safekeeping. That was a good thing. There was no way Albert would have been able to get it from Stone without anyone else noticing if he had been carrying it with him at the hospital.<p>

Dogmeat was also present and Albert couldn't figure out a way to get the dog to stay behind. He couldn't leave him with the other vault dwellers without them realizing what he was doing, and the dog didn't seem interested in staying behind anywhere. When Albert briefly explained to Killian the curious circumstances under which he had made friends with the dog, Killian recommended bringing Dogmeat along. Something about giving the dog a chance to get justice for the death of its former owner. Albert couldn't tell if he was joking.

Resigned to the fact that the dog was going to follow him whether he liked it or not, Albert turned his attentions to getting some last minute pointers from Ian about using a shotgun.

'You ready?' said Killian as Albert was just finishing up.

'Just about,' said Albert, sliding in the second cartridge into the chamber and closing the breach on the double barrels. He glanced at the time on his PIPBoy. 'Although I would like to make a very quick stop at the Skum Pitt, before that.'

'What is it about?' asked Killian. 'We should probably try to avoid giving Gizmo too much time to prepare for our arrival.

'You wanted guns? I know of one in particular that's just itching to have a legitimate excuse to take Gizmo on.'

* * *

><p>Over in the Skum Pitt Albert found Tycho sitting at the same table as he had the previous night. It was still relatively early and the pub was mostly empty. Albert, dressed in Garl's armor and carrying Stone's Winchester loosely in his hands, caught his attention instantly.<p>

'You look like you're prepared to cause some damage,' Tycho observed, clearly impressed by the change.

'Killian's asked me to help clean up this town,' said Albert simply. 'I'd like your help.'

Albert had guessed right. Tycho got up almost immediately, retrieving his own shotgun from the table and leaving his drink behind. He certainly didn't need to be told twice.

'Well, it's about time,' he said. 'It's about time we did some street-sweeping. I assume you had something specific in mind, though.'

'Gizmo,' Albert said simply. 'We're gonna nail that tub.'

Tycho's eyes widened ever so slightly for the briefest moment. Then he grinned. 'Lead on, my friend,' he said.

* * *

><p>The two guards at the entrance of the casino were clearly unnerved by the sight of eleven armed men – two Widowmakers, one MP9, two Rangemasters, a couple of Desert Eagles, and one dog. Two of Killian's men walked over to the rotating casino sign and smashed it with batons.<p>

'We're shutting down the casino,' Killian declared to the two guards. 'This is your one chance to avoid arrest. Lay down your weapons and leave now.'

The two guards hesitated and glanced nervously at each other.

'We don't have all day,' said Killian. He pointed at two of his Junktown guards who began to advance. The two casino guards lost their cool and dropped their weapons. When they had left, Killian sent four of his guards to circle around the casino to make sure any other exits were covered. The remaining seven of them (and one dog) entered through the front doors.

Inside, there were only a few early gamblers, a couple of dealers, and two of Gizmo's guards at the far end of the room, guarding entrance to the private area. Lars fired one shot from his rifle into the air. Bits of plaster rained to the ground from where the bullet had struck the ceiling.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' he announced. 'This casino is hereby closed. Unless you wish to get in our way, we recommend you make immediate use of the exit behind us.'

The effect was immediate. What few patrons and employees were in the main room quickly fled the scene, giving Killian and the rest as wide a berth as possible. By the time the room had cleared, the two casino guards at the other end of the room had been joined by two from the inner private room behind the door they had been guarding.

Killian and the rest advanced, their weapons held at the ready but not yet aimed to shoot. The same went for the four casino guards who had unholstered their firearms but were reluctant to actually point them at officers of the Law. Yet it was clear they had been given instructions not to let the Junktown guards in.

'Don't do anything stupid,' Killian warned. 'No one needs to die today. Just put your weapons on the ground and you can leave without any charges brought against you.' Gizmo's men still looked wary. 'Your boss is guilty of contracting assassins to kill officers of the Law,' Killian explained. 'If you protect him, you'll be protecting a criminal and you'll be duly arrested.'

'If we let you through, we'll get worse than just arrested,' said one of the casino guards.

'Not once we arrest Gizmo.'

'That ain't how it works,' said the same guard. 'Giz has contacts. We let you through and we're goners. And that's if we're lucky. If we're unlucky, someone takes out our families as well. Sorry sheriff… we can't let you through.'

For the longest moment, everything was still. But the words of the casino guard had clearly hardened the resolve of his colleagues. Albert could see it in their eyes.

'Oh shit,' he said below his breath, a split-second before the guns came up. Albert had practiced his fast-draw with his Desert Eagle but the size, length, and weight of the shotgun were unfamiliar to him, slowing down his speed considerably. Even so, Killian, Ian, and Tycho were still the fastest draws. A .44 round from his Desert Eagle caught the first guard in the chest. His leather chest padding offered some protection but not enough. Ian's SMG spat a dozen rounds at the rightmost casino guard. The guard had attempted to take evasive action but four rounds still connected, throwing him to the ground. Tycho's shotgun blasted the leftmost guard clear off his feet. The remaining casino guard managed to get off a shot at the exact same time as Lars. The bullet from the guard's pistol hit Lars in the shoulder but the round from Lars' rifle went clean through the guard's head.

The guard Killian had shot was the only one of the four still alive by the end. Killian walked up to him and kicked the man's gun out of reach. Then he glanced back at Lars who was favoring his wounded arm.

'Go back and tell the Doc he's got another patient here… _after _he fixes you up.'

'I don't need to be fixed,' Lars said through gritted teeth as he slung his rifle over his shoulder with one arm and then drew his own handgun.

'That's not a choice,' said Killian firmly. 'I need you to have the use of both of your arms in your job.'

'Yes, sir,' said Lars obediently but reluctantly.

'Lenny,' said Killian to one his two other guards remaining in the group. 'Keep this area secured and make sure this idiot,' he nodded his head at the wounded casino guard, 'doesn't try anything.'

'If he does?'

'Shoot him.'

While the guard Killian had spoken to took the responsibility of consolidating all the fallen casino guards' weapons, Albert glanced down at Dogmeat. The dog had done nothing during the firefight yet it showed no signs of having been the slightest bit perturbed by the exchange of gunfire. This was some dog, Albert had to admit. But he also wondered what would happen once they confronted Gizmo. A part of him wanted Dogmeat to attack the fat casino owner and rip out his neck like he had the Skulz member who had attacked Albert earlier that afternoon. But another part of him was genuinely concerned for the wellbeing of the dog and worried that either Gizmo would shoot it or Killian or one of the rest would if it got in the way of Gizmo's arrest.

Either way, if the dog didn't do it, Albert knew he himself had to. Somehow. The words spoken by the casino guard rang in Albert's ears. If Gizmo was merciless to employees who didn't do their jobs, how much less would he be to those who had blatantly double-crossed him or, worse still, those who were associated with such a person.

Having cleared the main room, the remaining five of them entered the door to the private gambling room. It was empty, the dealers and patrons having fled with the rest earlier. That left a single door leading into Gizmo's office.

'Alright, here we go,' said Killian. 'I'll go first with Steven here,' he indicated the remaining Junktown guard who still accompanied them. 'Remember, his bodyguard Izo is a master martial artist. Don't let him get close. And if you're numbers are right,' he paused to turn to Albert, 'then there may be another two or so guards in there. Don't fire unless they fire first.'

With that short briefing, Killian faced the door, raising his fingers in counting silently to three. On three, he and his guard kicked the door in and moved swiftly into the long office. Ian and Tycho went in second, then Albert and Dogmeat.

Inside, to their surprise, sat a very calm casino owner, smoking a cigar and arranging papers on his desk. Izo stood silently by his side, his arms crossed. Of the two other possible guards there was no sign. Gizmo looked steadily up at the intruders all of whom had their weapons raised and aimed at him.

'I'm here to take you in, Gizmo,' said Killian. 'This time I've got all the proof I need.'

Gizmo didn't respond at first. Instead he cast a stony glance at Albert. Albert's nerves went on edge. The casino owner didn't say anything to him but Albert knew what the fat man had in store for him. It steeled Albert's resolve to end this here. He just had to figure out how.

Gizmo turned his gaze back to Killian. 'So it comes down to this,' he said, laying his cigar down into a circular ashtray. 'Well, I never could put up with your stink.' He pushed himself and his office chair a few inches back from the desk as if he was planning to stand up. 'Now I'm going to put an end to it,' he said.

At that moment, the two doors on the right side of the office flew open revealing the two missing guards, each armed with shotguns of their own. The one emerging from the nearest door fired first. Killian's guard, who had been standing almost next to the door, took the full brunt of the blast, knocking him off his feet as the 12-gauge slug destroyed the right half of his ribcage and most of the internal organs in his chest. The second guard was slower. Tycho's own weapon went off first, catching the guard just below the neck and throwing him back through the doorway from which he had emerged. Killian and Ian both turned their weapons to the first casino guard, paying him back in full for killing Killian's own guard.

Recalling how the two assassins sent to kill Killian a day earlier had operated, Albert was the only one who had kept most of his attention on Gizmo and Izo. But even as he lined up his sights, Izo moved. And he moved like lightning.

Izo headed straight for Killian and Albert knew that once the martial artist got close, it would be all over for them. Their firearms would be useless unless they didn't care about catching one another in a crossfire. Cursing, Albert turned the double barrels of his shotgun to track Izo. The man had just about reached Killian and had actually leapt into the air like a Thai kick boxer, hoping to land an elbow directly onto Killian's exposed head.

He was still in midair when both barrels of Albert's shotgun went off. Izo's trajectory went way off course and he was thrown into the wall by the impact of two heavy shotgun slugs.

In the confusion that the ambush had caused, Gizmo had gotten all the time he needed to draw his own weapon – an old vintage Mauser M/96 pistol. But since Izo had gone after Killian, Gizmo had decided to go after his second priority target: Albert.

Gizmo's aim was steady and true but, fortunately for Albert, the redirection of his focus onto Izo had caused him to turn just enough that the 9x19mm round fired from the Mauser missed by a hair's breadth, instead taking off a chunk of Albert's left ear – what would have otherwise been a clear headshot if Albert hadn't moved. Gizmo corrected his aim and fired again but, by then, Albert was no longer standing still and Gizmo no longer had time on his side to steady his second shot. The second round pinged loudly but harmlessly against Albert's metal armor.

Gizmo was just about to pull the trigger for the third time, even as Killian and the rest were turning their weapons back onto him, when Dogmeat, whom everyone had literally overlooked since he stood below waist-level and who had gone straight for Gizmo from the start, reached Gizmo's desk, vaulted clean over it, and landed, fangs first, onto Gizmo. Dogmeat wasn't a huge dog but the momentum he brought was enough to knock Gizmo off his chair. The Mauser in his hand was useless as Dogmeat ripped his throat out. In a few seconds it was all over.

While Ian and Tycho double-checked that no one else was hiding in the two rooms to the right, and Killian paid his respects to Steven, Albert dropped his unloaded shotgun, pulled his Desert Eagle from his holster and advanced the last 15 yards to Gizmo's desk. By the time he reached the casino owner, it was clear that the man was dead, his head almost literally connected to his body only by his spinal column. The grisly sight turned Albert's stomach but, at the same time, gave him a grim sense of satisfaction. This was what had to be done. He had – or rather _Dogmeat _had – ensured not just Albert's own future safety but Theresa and possibly all the other vault dwellers' as well.

Albert holstered his weapon as Dogmeat left the dead casino owner and returned to Albert's side, blood, tissue, and fat dripping from its jaw. Albert bent down on one knee and wiped off the grisly remains from Dogmeat's maw. Albert's own partially blown-off ear was bleeding profusely but he hardly noticed it and only vaguely took note of the fact that he would have to staunch the bleeding soon.

He glanced down again at Gizmo's corpse, feeling no pity.

'That's for Theresa,' he said coldly.


	12. Chapter 11: Post Nuclear Capitalism

Apologies for the long wait. I think that for the next few months (until about May), I may only be able to put up a chapter once every 4 or 5 weeks due to work commitments.

This one's another long chapter and I had to rename it from 'The Hub' to what it is now to reflect the added content. A little slow at points, I think, and I'm pretty sure that, after this chapter, there's going to be less moping and obsessive internalizing, just because I think things really start to pick up, plot-wise after this chapter.

So, thanks for the reviews so far and for being patient. I hope this next chapter lives up to your expectations. I realize some of you have probably had it up to here with listening to the characters try to mentally process their issues with team leading and cooperation, so let me say that there probably won't be as much, at least for awhile, after this. I just had to resolve some of the team issues from the last chapter.

Hope you enjoy the chapter. The next one is tentatively called 'Deathclaw', though I may rename it if there are more events than that that end up getting packed into the chapter.

**Chapter Eleven: Post-Nuclear Capitalism**

It was the afternoon of January the 7th, three-and-a-half days since leaving Junktown, when Natalia and her team finally arrived at the large city to the south once called Barstow. Before the War, it had never been a big city, numbering only at around 25,000 people when the bombs hit. Practically all the buildings were low-rise, and there was no skyline to speak of. Ironic, then, that unlike many of the major and most impressive cities of the pre-War era, Barstow – now the Hub – had escaped all physical damage from the War and was now the center of post-nuclear west coast civilization. The city had been reclaimed almost wholesale by its current inhabitants. In fact, if anything, it had expanded; beyond the pre-War homes that had since been repurposed, the Hub was littered with outlying farms that stretched out for miles. There was certainly much life in this desert oasis.

As Ian led the way to the home he shared with his wife, Natalia's thoughts drifted back to Albert and Theresa. Theresa had been in no condition to travel and Albert had been adamant about staying behind. Natalia didn't blame him. Albert's meddling in Gizmo and Killian's affairs had been what had landed her in that position in the first place. Natalia suspected Albert also wanted some time to himself; he couldn't do that if he was always at the front of the group. Natalia had given him a hard time when she had found out that he had gone with Killian to arrest Gizmo, even though she had known his reasons for leaving the rest of the team (minus Ian and Tycho) out of the loop. The events at the Khans' base still occupied his thoughts; she understood that. He had probably wanted time to evaluate how he was leading the group. Natalia only hoped he would realize that even though he might be responsible for the safety and wellbeing of the group, he also could not simply act out on his own. His responsibility as their leader _necessitated _that he ensure the group acted as one. Maybe, once she got better, Theresa would knock some sense into him.

Natalia wondered if they were going to be able to fix their "relationship" or whatever it was they called it. A part of her hoped they did; she was friends with both of them after all. The other part of her wondered if Albert would pay more attention to herself if things didn't work out between him and Theresa. It was a strange thought. Natalia herself wasn't sure if she actually genuinely wanted his attentions; she didn't know what she would do if that actually happened. Yet despite her confusion and indecisiveness about the matter, it was a thought that kept circulating through her brain.

After realizing that it would be over a week before Theresa might be in the condition to even consider making the three-and-a-half day trek to the Hub, Albert and Natalia had discussed their plans and decided that Natalia, Alex, Ian, and Stone would leave first and get a head start with the search. They would use Ian's home as a meeting as well as resting place. Neither Albert nor Theresa knew anything about how to get to Ian's place but Tycho was much more familiar with the area and, with brief instructions provided by Ian, would be able to bring the other two vault dwellers to the rendezvous point.

Tycho had been an unexpected addition to the team. Everyone had expected him to resume his daily mooching around Junktown after the gunfight at Gizmo's casino. Instead, he had offered to add his gun to their cause. Having gotten a refreshing taste of what is was like to 'fight the good fight', he had said he felt certain that following them in their quest for the chip would result in more such opportunities. It was a claim that more than one of the team members had questioned; Ian had asserted that Tycho just wanted a legitimated opportunity to kill someone. Still, whatever the reason, no one could deny that having someone of his experience on their team to back them up was a bad thing. He had also told them that he was a man of very simple tastes and that they would not have to worry about paying, feeding, or housing him. It was too good a deal for the rest to pass up. Even Ian, who found Tycho unjustifiably idealistic for someone who had been living out in the Wasteland for most of his life, appreciated the extra gun.

In any case, that didn't make a difference at present. At least not for Natalia's team. Whatever caps they had accumulated had now mostly been depleted. The remaining 100 or so caps would last the four of them a day or two at most. Albert had the 500 caps Killian had giving him for helping out with Gizmo but, without knowing for sure when Theresa, himself, and Tycho would be able to leave, they had decided that it was best for him to keep the caps just in case. For Natalia's team, each of them had only what caps remained in their pockets that they hadn't used while in Junktown. Ian had been paid for his assistance with Gizmo just as Albert and Tycho had, but Natalia didn't want to ask him to support the group with his hard-earned caps. He had risked his life for his payment and, besides, he wasn't obligated to the group. _Plus_, he was already offering to house them for free.

Gradually, Natalia came to the realization that the rest of them were actually going to have to start looking for work in the Hub if they were going to survive. The rations provided for free by Killian for Albert's help with the evidence of Gizmo's nefarious activities had certainly sustained them through the journey. But those supplies were dwindling as well and Natalia wanted to keep some of them in reserve for emergencies.

In any case, the first order was to reach Ian's home, meet his wife, and lay down their packs. The vault dwellers had gotten increasingly accustomed to long hours of travel but the notion of arriving at a destination after days of arduous travel never ceased to remain a source of great relief.

Now, as they passed several farmhouses and crop fields and finally reached the one Ian had pointed out, the former merchant guard brought them to a halt. Walking through the small field of a variety of mutated crops, he had noticed something – weeds. Judging by the looks of it, the place had not been tended to for weeks. Cautiously now, Ian drew his weapon and led the rest forward slowly.

When they reached the house, all was silent. Signaling to the rest to be prepared, Ian slowly pushed the door open. Inside there was no sign of life. Followed closely by Natalia, Stone, and then Alex, Ian proceeded to search the house.

The place wasn't big and within a few minutes, they had checked all the rooms and come up empty. Their fear that raiders might have somehow overtaken the place – a concern that, though less common in heavily populated areas like Junktown or the Hub, was nevertheless a very real one – proved unfounded. But that still left one question.

Ian slung his SMG across his back and frowned. Nothing had been stolen but of his wife there was no sign.

'Maybe she's just gone to town to get something,' Natalia offered.

'Or not,' Alex said, coming up behind them. In his hands he held a note that he had found on one of the tables. Ian snatched the piece of paper from Alex.

For the first few seconds, they were all in suspense. But as Natalia watched Ian's expression and how it crumbled, she guessed it all. She waited for him to finish reading the entire letter and then reread it twice more. When he finally spoke, the two words said it all.

'She's gone,' he said.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Ian was in a worse state than when he had first read the letter. He had retreated to the master bedroom shortly after reading the letter with a large bottle of scotch in hand. He had not emerged since.<p>

In the meantime, the vault dwellers had familiarized themselves with the rest of the house, though there was little in the way of exploration. There was a large central room that functioned as lounge, kitchen, and dining room. Aside from Ian's bedroom, there were also two other smaller rooms – one was a storeroom, the other a spare bedroom.

Neither Stone nor Alex seemed keen on pursuing the matter of Ian's wife with him, so, while Stone passed the time teaching Alex how to operate a firearm out in the garden, Natalia was left by herself in the house, pondering what she should do about Ian and, for that matter, themselves. The gardens had something in the way of food, and there were a couple of large plastic cartons of water in the storeroom, but if they were going to live there until Albert, Theresa, and Tycho arrived, they were going to have to find some way to buffer their supplies. And that meant that they needed Ian to climb out of the rut he had fallen into.

Natalia took a deep breath, walked over to Ian's door and knocked. When she received no reply, she gently pushed the door open and entered. Inside, the only window in the room – a small round porthole not big enough for even a child to squeeze through – cast a little of the late afternoon sun into the gloom. But it wasn't much. It mirrored the mood Ian was in. Natalia found Ian in the corner, sitting on the floor, his jacket off, his bottle more than half finished. Natalia's heart swelled with pity to see the once proud and self-confident former caravan guard reduced to this.

'Mmarissa?' he said, his voice hopeful but hopelessly slurred as he tried to stagger to his feet and failed, collapsing back to the floor.

'No, just me,' said Natalia. 'I'm sorry.'

Ian shook his head and half-laughed, half-sobbed. 'Knew this was coming,' he said, though Natalia couldn't tell if he was talking to her or to himself. 'She always said she understood but…' he wagged his finger wildly in the air, '_knew this was coming_…'

Natalia stood awkwardly by the doorway, wishing Albert was there. Dealing with this kind of thing had been his job back in the Vault after all.

'Ian, I'm… sorry,' she said. She took a step closer and thought of sitting down next to him but the smell of alcohol wafting up to her gave her pause. Ian was pretty far down the road of intoxication and that made him unpredictable… to her at least. 'We need to start thinking about getting supplies to last us until Albert and the others arrive,' she said. 'And we need to start searching for—'

'For Marissa?' Ian said hopefully.

'If… If you know where she might be, we could look…' Natalia offered uncertainly.

Ian's expression sank. 'This was the only home she had,' he muttered. 'If she's not here… I don't…' he looked thoughtfully at the bottle in his hands, or at least as thoughtfully as he could manage in his current state, then his expression suddenly hardened. 'Stupid bitch!' he yelled at the bottle. 'Why didn't you just tell me sooner? We could have fixed this!'

Natalia's gut instinct to leave Ian alone became a certainty when Ian's eyes focused on hers as he transferred his sudden outburst onto the nearest human target. Natalia ducked out of the room and slammed the door behind her just as the bottle left Ian's hand and smashed against the wall where she had been standing.

Natalia leaned against the door, her hand holding tightly onto the doorknob. But she didn't hear anything after. Ian was either too drunk to follow or his outburst had dissipated. For the moment, at least.

Realizing they would just have to wait until Ian sobered up, Natalia left the house. Outside the sun was just beginning to sink – there were still way too many hours to go to be sitting around and doing nothing. She walked over to the two other men. They stopped their gun practice and turned to her.

'You may want to give Ian some space for… maybe the rest of the evening,' she told them.

'What now?' Alex asked. 'The water will last us a few days, but we can't just eat desiccated carrots and mutant cabbages for the next few days.'

'No,' Natalia agreed. She glanced at the sun again. 'I'm heading downtown,' she said. 'See what I can find.'

'Do you even know where downtown _is_?' Alex asked.

Natalia pointed in the distance to the Old Highway 58. Over the past few hours, they had noticed the occasional caravan moving east along it and then south into the heart of the city.

'I figure there must be some main town center or something where those caravans congregate.'

'You shouldn't go alone,' said Alex.

'We can't leave Ian alone,' said Natalia.

'Let Stone stay,' said Alex. 'He's probably the only one who can handle Ian if he gets rowdy anyhow.'

Natalia glanced at the big man.

'I can stay,' Stone said in acquiescence. He didn't seem particularly concerned either way.

'Alright,' Natalia agreed. 'Just be careful. He's pretty far gone. He threw a bottle at me while I was talking to him.'

'No problem,' Stone smiled.

* * *

><p>A two-hour walk brought Alex and Natalia to what appeared to be the <em>de facto<em> entrance to the Hub. Dozens of caravans had already gathered at what had once been a major junction of Barstow. Some caravans were arriving, others were leaving, and still others had been converted into makeshift bazaar stalls. Surrounding the caravans were throngs of people eager to buy (or sell) goods; it was the most crowded place Natalia had ever seen. With each caravan well protected by hired guns and dozens of armed men and women in uniform ('Hub police' according to one of the passers-by), the town square was probably one of the safest places in the wasteland Natalia could think of. No raider group, not even the Khans at their full strength, would be stupid enough to even think of attacking this place.

Reflecting the importance of the bazaar was the size of the caravans themselves. While those Natalia had seen in Shady Sands and Junktown had merely been brahma laden with pouches and sacks full of their merchant owners' goods, the ones here were loaded onto what appeared to be the remains of ancient automobiles that were then pulled along by two or more brahma. In almost every case, the front half of the car had been removed from the frame, leaving the trunk and backseat resting on the two rear wheels. Like some kind of improvised wagon, the metal undercarriage was then hitched onto harnesses fastened around the nexts of the brahma. It was an ingenious idea, Natalia had to admit, for transporting large and bulky items, and it seemed to have become widely institutionalized amongst the more major trading groups there in the Hub.

'So… what are we looking for, exactly?' Alex asked. 'A water chip or food?'

'Both,' said Natalia. 'But we also need to figure out a way to pay for them.'

'Hey, back in the vault, weren't you famous at some point for stealing—'

'No!' Natalia said too quickly, then she lowered her voice. 'How did you know that?'

'I looked up your records after the Overseer sent the three of you out.'

'Why?'

'To figure out why he didn't pick _me_.'

'And you think it's because of my past history? Uh-uh. Not any more. I've put that behind me.'

'Well you might want to bring it back,' said Alex. 'We all have our different skills. You're agile and you have quick fingers. That's what makes you special to the group.'

'You sound like Theresa. She was always telling me that exact same thing back when she was still trying to recruit me in the Vault.'

'Great minds think alike. Seriously, though. If you have a gift for something, and it can get us what we need, you have to use it.'

'There are rules against things like that, y'know.'

'That was _in _the Vault. In a closed place like that, rules about personal property matter.'

'And they don't here?'

'It's a dog-eat-dog world. Junktown proved it. You gotta do what you gotta do to get by. _You've _been out here longer than I have. Shouldn't you have figured that out by now?'

'Maybe it's because I actually have principles.'

'Honestly, if there's one reason my simulation test scores in the Vault were so high, it's that I have the attitude and will to survive in a harsh world. Your skill is stealing. Mine is knowing what to do to make sure we get what we need and, right now, these two skills are intersecting.'

'Look, I'm not talking about this anymore,' said Natalia. 'Why don't we just start browsing. We can decide about how to get the chip _if _we actually manage to find it. Look out for merchants selling salvaged electronics or other technical equipment. I'll start on this end, you can start on the other, and we'll meet in the middle. Do you still remember what the chip looks like from the book?'

'Relax,' said Alex, pulling out the copy of _Deans Electronics _from his haversack and waving it in front of her.

The two split and started going down the many aisles in the bazaar browsing through wares, largely pre-War stuff, that they had forgotten even existed. Eventually, Alex stopped at one cart filled with what looked like computer parts. Alex's excitement was short-lived, however, as he realized that none of the computer parts on display were vault-related. They were just basic desktop hardware – memory cards, hard drives, DVD players... When he asked the merchant about water chips, he received a blank look in return.

'Got me on that one,' said the merchant. 'Never heard of one of those. Maybe you should check the general store downtown. They may be able to help you.'

'How do I get there?' Alex asked.

'It's on this road,' the merchant replied. 'Just head south. Can't miss it.'

Thanking the merchant, Alex went down the remainder of the aisles, unfortunately finding nothing in the way of water chips, until he finally met Natalia somewhere in the middle.

'Any luck?' she asked.

'No chip, but I got directed to the general store downtown,' said Alex.

Natalia nodded. 'Good. That's also where I was told we could find work.'

'Work?' Alex asked doubtfully.

'To pay for food,' Natalia continued.

Alex rolled his eyes.

'Look, I can't steal _everything _we need,' she said.

'Fine, but how about just a gun of my own? I don't think Stone's gonna let me keep this Desert Eagle of his once we return.'

Natalia shook her head but smiled. She pulled her hand from behind her back and handed him a blue bottle of Nuka-Cola.

'Ha!' Alex cried in excitement as he grabbed the bottle gratefully. 'That's my girl! Now we're talking.'

'Let's get moving before the guy I took it from notices,' said Natalia.

* * *

><p>Twenty-minutes later to what a random passerby whom they had stopped for directions called "the Merchant Market". Unlike the bazaar at the entrance to town where the caravans came and went, however, the Merchant Market seemed to be the equivalent of a pre-War city's central business district. This place was as heavily populated as the bazaar had been, only the people here were more dispersed, milling around the dozens of different stores, bars, motels, and merchant offices.<p>

The two vault dwellers wandered around the Market, progressively more dazzled by the hustle and bustle of the city. What made navigation particularly difficult was that Barstow had never been a densely built place. The single or double-storey buildings that had been re-appropriated for their current uses were all fairly well spaced apart. For Alex and Natalia, that meant a lot of extra walking, especially since they weren't familiar with the topography. Eventually, however, with the directions from a few more citizens, they managed to locate the general "All-In-One" store.

Inside, they were, once again, overwhelmed by the sheer number and diversity of things on sale. Yet as they browsed the wares, it soon became apparent that it did not have the one thing they were looking for. Their quick conversation with the store owner – a short, pudgy man by the name of Mitch – revealed that something like a water purification chip was far too specific and technical for the merchants of the Wasteland to peddle.

'Well now what?' asked Alex once they had left.

'We still have Adytum, the Brotherhood of Steel, and… Necropolis,' said Natalia, pausing at the unsavory taste of the last word.

'None of which sound promising, I might add,' said Alex.

'Maybe we'll just have to start asking around again if anyone's heard of nearby vaults.'

'A lot of good that did us back in Junktown.'

'Well _you're _the survival specialist, aren't you? Why don't _you _suggest something.'

'Yeah, in _Wasteland _survival, not Vault-Tec survival.'

Natalia gave a short grunt of resignation. 'Well, we can settle on what to do once Albert and the others arrive. In the meantime, we still have work to look for.'

From what they had gathered from the people they had spoken to at the bazaar and in the Merchant Market, the three major merchant groups – the Far Go Traders, the Crimson Caravan, and the Water Merchants – were always hiring guards for their caravans. But those were jobs that would take them _away _from the Hub and they needed to stay put until Albert and the others arrived. That left the bulletin boards located all around the Merchant Market.

Alex and Natalia found one without much difficulty and scanned down the list of job positions. The least dangerous options appeared to be farming, shepherding, and excrement-shoveling jobs that paid on a daily basis. It would keep them fed, but it would also strip them of most of their spare time to look for the water chip or information about its possible whereabouts. The last job listing on the bulletin board caught their attention. The "Special Position", offered by the Far Go Traders, claimed to pay 'generously', but it also came with the requirements: "Must be observant and willing to travel in dangerous territory." Neither Alex nor Natalia knew what that meant exactly and how it differed from ordinary caravan jobs, but the sound of danger was not particularly appealing to either.

'Looks like we're gonna be shoveling brahmin shit for the next few days,' said Alex, looking forlornly at one of the job listings.

'_You_ can shovel shit if you want,' said Natalia. 'I'm taking the farm job.'

* * *

><p>It was late into the night of the fourth day since the others had left Junktown when Albert finally got back to the Crash House. Killian had been nice enough to offer to pay for Albert and Theresa's board and lodging for the remainder of the time they were in Junktown. He had said it was only fair given the danger he had put Albert and his friends through in order to take Gizmo down.<p>

With necessities taken care of, Albert had been freed to soak up more of the local sights. Since Natalia and the others had left he had been to every boxing match, accompanied by his newfound friends: Tycho, Dogmeat, Trish, and Saul (who, on Theresa's recommendation, had finally had a conversation with Trish about the dangers of his profession and the stresses it put on her). Having lost his primary source of sponsorship with the death of Gizmo, Tycho had decided to just call his boxing days quits. In its place, he had started a little fitness club, imparting some of his former physical training regimes to others for a price. It was far safer than his boxing career had been and, more importantly, it had brought him closer to Trish.

When he wasn't watching boxing matches, brainstorming with Killian about possible future uses for the building that had once housed the casino, conversing with Doc Morbid about how the doctor had trained Razlo (and others) in medicine, or visiting Theresa in the 'hospital', Albert was hanging out at the Skum Pitt in the hopes of finding some newcomer, fresh from the Wasteland, who may have heard something about another vault or vault equipment. So far there had been no such luck. But it didn't bother him too much. The real reason for hanging out at the pub was so he wouldn't have to be by Theresa's bedside as often.

Their relationship had gotten strained over the past few days. On a few occasions, he had had been asked to leave by the doctor when she started getting worked up about the dangers he had put everyone in, including himself. It was difficult; these were issues they needed to discuss and this was the best time to discuss them in private since it was just the two of them. But Theresa had deep-seated reservations about Albert's meddling with local affairs – all reservations Albert thought were perfectly justifiable given how she had been the one to pay the price of his actions. Yet even though he empathized with her position and views, and was genuinely remorseful for inadvertently getting her involved, he had been unable to promise her that he wouldn't do anything like that again.

In his last visit, they had established that they would no longer talk about the issue until they were well on their way to the Hub to meet the others. Instead, they had spent the time discussing possible locations to visit after the Hub, their appraisals of their team members (both their current group as well as the one back in Vault-13), and what they would do once they got the water chip. But persistently looming in the background was the very thing they had decided not to talk about.

Albert was torn. He knew Theresa had a point. It _was _irresponsible of him to go off doing his own things, especiallywhen his actions had repercussions that affected the rest of the group. Yet the only other alternative he could think of was to have simply stood by and let innocent, or at least law-abiding, citizens die. And Albert was unwilling to let that happen, even in retrospect. This whole quest for the chip was more than just saving the Vault. It was more than just getting a bargaining chip to start scouting expeditions. It was more than just the first step towards giving the vault dwellers the right to stay or leave the Vault. Beyond that, it had become, to him at least, an expedition to appraise the livability of the world outside of Vault-13. If he was going to fight for the right to gradually shift the Vault population to the outside world, he had to be sure there was a future on the outside. And this… this world of raiding, back-alley murders, corrupt business practices, and unprincipled law regulation, at least with some of the guards, was not the future he had envisioned. To stand by passively would be to endorse it all and Albert wasn't willing to do that. Ian was right. He _was _an idealist. The question, then, was: could he be an idealist _and _a leader? Albert still didn't have an answer to that.

Albert turned the handle of the door to his room, and then paused. He glanced at his PIPBoy. One in the morning. He entered the room and walked to the table where a slim vase stood with a single flower in it. A caravan had come by earlier in the afternoon and, to Albert's surprise, had included in its inventory some kind of violet-colored desert flowers. For all Albert knew, they could have been desert weeds, but, compared to the bleakness of the wasteland, they were a refreshing sight and he had decided to purchase one for Theresa. Now he just had to leave it by her bedside so it would be the first thing she saw when she woke up the next morning.

Albert grabbed the flower and vase and made his way over to the hospital.

When he got there, Albert found Doc Morbid's two guards in the waiting room playing cards. They got up when he entered.

'What do you want?' said the meaner looking one.

'I just want to drop off something for my friend,' said Albert, taken aback by the hostile tone. They had seemed nice enough when he had come by during the day.

'Visiting hours are from eight to five,' said the guard. 'Now get outta here.'

'I'd like to check in on her,' Albert insisted.

'Too bad,' the guard retorted. 'No one's allowed in at night.'

'Let me talk to the doctor. Where is he?'

'Sleeping.'

'Well, what happens if something happens to her in the middle of the night? At least let me in to see her for my own ease of mind.'

'No.'

'This is ridiculous,' Albert said taking a step towards the doorway to the backroom. To his surprise, both guards reached for their weapons. The more belligerent guard moved to block him off and pointed the gun at his face. Albert froze, raised his hands, and stepped back.

'Get lost,' said the guard.

Slowly, Albert backed away until he was outside of the hospital.

Standing outside, Albert tried to make sense of their suddenly belligerent behavior. Why were they so hostile? They hadn't exactly been the chattiest of people when he had visited during the previous days, but they hadn't come across as thugs either.

They were hiding something and Albert wanted to know what, _especially _since Theresa was down in the basement in one of the patient rooms.

But how to get in? Killian might have been willing to grant him a favor but Albert wasn't about to wake him up just to do this. If he went to Lars, the head of the Junktown guards would likely want to make a trade; ever since Gizmo had died, he had been trying to enlist Albert's help with finding evidence to bringi down the Skulz as well. Albert was sure that if he approached the guard leader, he would only provide official sanction to get into the hospital if Albert agreed to help him with the other problem. Albert had learnt over the past few days that Dogmeat had been well-trained in recognizing and acknowledging many basic commands, but asking a faithful companion to provide a distraction was a little too complicated, even for a dog as intelligent as Dogmeat. That left Tycho.

Albert headed back over to the Skum Pitt but Tycho had already retired for the evening. Not surprising.

Albert stood outside the almost empty bar and thought for a few moments before finally coming up with a plan. It was not one he was particularly in favor of, but he couldn't see any other way around it, not if he wanted to check up on Theresa before the morning.

Heading back over to his room in the Crash House, Albert retrieved his leather jacket from where it hung to air over the back of the only chair in the room. He brushed some of the dust off it, folded it neatly, and tucked it under one arm. Then he headed out of his room and to the rear corridor of the motel.

Arriving at the last door at the end of the corridor, Albert took a deep breath, and then knocked. There weren't as many candles lining the walls here as there were in the main area of the motel and the darkness made Albert a little uneasy, especially considering whose door he was knocking on. When Lars had tried to recruit him to help with the Skulz, he had also told Albert about the gang's semi-permanent establishment at the back of the Crash House should he ever change his mind about helping. It was information Albert was now putting to use.

The door opened and a sleepy woman emerged. Spotting him in the corridor, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

'Who are you and what are you doing here?' she demanded. 'This is the territory of the Skulz. You'd better beat it before someone decides to hurt you.'

'Some of your friends already tried,' he said. 'And failed.'

Her eyes widened as she stepped back, prepared to slam the door shut.

'I have a job for you,' Albert said hurriedly.

She paused, but the distrust on her face was clear.

'Shark,' she called. Albert heard a muffled voice reply irritably. 'We might have a troublemaker,' she said. A few seconds later she was joined by an unpleasant looking man. The filed teeth immediately gave him away. He snarled as his gaze settled on Albert.

'You,' he spat.

'Oh, so you know me now,' said Albert sarcastically. 'Does that mean you admit Gizmo hired you to kill me?'

'I should kill you right now for what you did to our friend,' said Shark.

'He had it coming,' said Albert. 'And besides, who's going to pay you for killing me this time? In case you haven't heard, Gizmo's dead.'

'What do you want?' Shark growled, but he was a little more subdued now that he had been reminded of Albert's role in the execution of the most dangerous man in Junktown.

'Let's let bygones be bygones,' said Albert. 'I have a job for you.'

Shark's snarl vanished for just a second as the surprise hit him. Then the snarl returned

'Why would you want to hire _us_?'

'Because the job I have in mind is not exactly… friendly in nature.'

'Do I look like an idiot to you? You hire us and then get Killian's people to wait around so they can arrest us all when we try it. Why would we do that?'

'Yes to your first question,' said Albert. 'As to your second, I'm not asking you to kill anyone. For what I have in mind, even if you _were_ to be stupid enough to get caught, you'd spend at most a day or two behind bars. From what I hear, that's less than the length of your usual stay. Besides, your gang really should do something about its sense of style. I can help.'

'What are you trying to saying?' Shark challenged.

'That you look like a common farmer,' Albert taunted. Shark took a step out of the doorway towards him. 'And I'm also saying that you don't _have _to any longer.' Albert held up the jacket and tossed it over to Victor who was so close that it almost struck him directly in the face. He held the jacket up by the candlelight. Eventually he saw Shark give a nod of approval. He liked what he was seeing. That was Albert's cue.

'I want you to cause some trouble over at the hospital. There's a friend of mine in one of their rooms and the Doc's two guards aren't letting me in. I want you to get those two guards out of the hospital for at least a half hour.'

'You said you weren't gonna ask us to kill.'

'I'm not.'

'How else are we going to keep them out of the hospital for thirty minutes?'

'You really _are_ an idiot. Have you tried using your fists?'

'You want us to beat them up?'

'What, is that too difficult for you? From what I've been told, there's at least five or six of you in the gang. There's just the two of them.'

'They're packing.'

'So surprise them. Lure them out of the hospital, then jump them. Take their weapons. Take their money. Take their clothes. I don't care. Just don't kill them.'

'Why don't you just get your friends over at the guard house to help you?' Shark asked, still suspicious of Albert's motives.

Albert rolled his eyes. 'First of all, they don't take orders from me. They take orders from Lars or Killian, and both of _them_, like normal people, are likely already sleeping. Secondly, they're called "the Law" for good reason. They're not going to help me break hospital rules, not even stupid ones.'

'So if we do this, you give us this jacket?'

'And anything you feel like taking from them.'

Shark nodded. 'Alright, we can do this. But you better not be setting us up, or we _will _find you and kill you. And we'll do it for free.'

'Fair enough,' said Albert.

* * *

><p>Less than fifteen minutes later, Albert found a spot in the darkness near the hospital and waited. It wasn't a long wait.<p>

Shark, or one of the other Skulz members, started banging loudly against the metal pipe at the rear of the hospital that connected to the rooftop gutter. It didn't take long for Doc Morbid's guards to emerge. None of them were expecting a diversion, so they both left the hospital unguarded.

Albert didn't wait to see what befell them. He hoped Shark was as good as his word. The last thing Albert wanted was the blood of two guards, as unpleasant as they were, on his hands, even if it was indirectly.

Albert snuck into the hospital and into the backroom. There he found the staircase leading down into the basement. It was pitch dark. Already familiar with the layout, or at least the directions to Theresa's room, Albert pulled out one of the few remaining flares he had saved and navigated his way by its light.

He located Theresa's room easily enough but when he tried the handle, he found, to his dismay, that it was locked. He knocked gently, and then a little more loudly, then he called Theresa's name. But there was no reply.

Getting increasingly worried although his mind told him he was overreacting, Albert stopped to think. He had two options: either just leave and come back the next morning, or search the basement in the hopes of finding a key.

Then he heard it.

It was muted and barely audible, but the sound of some object sharply striking another object was unmistakable. And it was repetitious. Albert remembered the last time he had heard a sound he couldn't identify. That time, it had ended in the discovery of a rape in progress and the subsequent murder of the rape victim.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Albert drew his Desert Eagle and, guided by his flare's orange-red glow and the periodic, muted, chopping sounds coming from the west end of the basement, he slowly made his way forward.

The darkness, previously just a hindrance to his location of Theresa's room, grew progressively oppressive, and Albert found himself frequently turning around to make sure no one was following him. And all the while, the chopping up ahead grew louder and more disconcerting.

Finally, he came to the end of the corridor. A single door stood between him and the noise. By the light of his flare, Albert read the sign on the door: "Morgue."

_What on earth? _Albert thought to himself as he gingerly tried the handle. It gave way and he gently pushed it inwards, his Desert Eagle raised and ready for trouble.

Inside, he found a bizarre and grisly sight.

The room was mostly empty except for the cold chambers – where dead bodies were temporarily stored – on the far side of the room. But in the center of the room, hard at work over a surgical table, standing on an old ice chest so he was level with the table, stood a rotund midget dressed in blue coveralls and a red cap. In his right hand he held a meat cleaver and he was busy chopping away at something on the table.

At first Albert was just confused. What would someone be doing chopping meat in a morgue? The obvious answer was so ludicrous to Albert that it didn't even enter his mind until he moved around the room a little so the midget's back was no longer blocking him.

Then he saw it, and his stomach turned. At the head of the table was the upper body of one of the corpses. The lower part was in the process of being hacked into small pieces under the man's cleaver.

Eyes wide in horror, Albert wasn't sure whether to run or shout in disgust and revulsion. But the man solved the problem for him. Albert must have made some kind of noise for the man turned to face him. Thinking quickly, Albert threw his pistol arm behind his back so the man wouldn't see the gun.

'What you down here for?' the man asked in broken English. He seemed more curious than hostile. The cleaver was still in his hand.

'Your… boss sent me down,' Albert said quickly.

The man nodded. 'Body parts almost ready to go to Hub.'

'For… what?' Albert asked, almost immediately regretting the question.

'For Bob to sell…' the man said matter-of-factly. When Albert, unable to stop himself, registered nothing but pure confusion on his face, the man added: 'to eat…'

It was all Albert could do to stop from screaming out loud in hate, disgust, and disbelief. The bile churned in his stomach and he made an involuntary gag that he failed to completely conceal. Thankfully, the man must not have noticed. 'Why you ask what we use for?' he asked.

Albert took a breath before answering. 'I wasn't sure this was where Bob got his human meat from,' he managed.

'Yes,' said the man, smiling now. 'Doc Morbid has best human bodies around. None better.'

'Uh… good,' said Albert. 'I'll… be back to pick up the… bodies… in a little while. Goodbye.'

Albert knew he had to get out of there. He needed to find the key quickly, get Theresa, and then get the hell out of this mad place. He turned to leave… and found himself staring directly at the good doctor.

Albert spotted the scalpel in the doctor's hand and then his own gun was up in the doctor's face. He was a second earlier than the doctor. Realizing he had lost on the draw, Doc Morbid dropped the scalpel and raised his hands.

'What the hell is going on here?' Albert demanded as he brought the doctor into the room at gunpoint. The midget finally realized he had been duped and reached down for what Albert suddenly realized was a submachine gun resting at the foot of the table. 'Drop it or your boss dies!' Albert shouted.

_Shit! _How had he again gotten himself into yet another mess?

'Do it,' said Doc Morbid in an unusually calm voice. His assistant complied. The doctor turned to Albert. 'Relax,' he said. 'Don't do anything you'll regret.'

'What are you talking about?' said Albert, quickly realizing he was losing his cool. This was just fucked up beyond anything he had imagined. His heart was beating in his chest like an express train. His senses were on edge. Everything was surreal. It felt like he was in a horror movie with Doc Morbid the evil mastermind revealing his diabolical plan just before killing his victim.

'In answer to your unasked question,' said Doc Morbid, 'no, I didn't kill this man. I have never killed anyone, nor has my assistant… at least not while he's worked for me.'

'You were holding a knife!'

'Yes, well… I wasn't about to approach an armed intruder empty-handed, now was I?'

'You're…' Albert had to pause to get the words out. 'You're _chopping up people to eat_! Are you fucking crazy?' he yelled.

'Not for _me _to eat,' said Doc Morbid, still immeasurably calm, his hands still raised. 'I'm just catering to a market that already exists. If I don't do it, somebody else will. With me, at least you can be sure the product only comes from those who are already dead and whom no one is going to miss.' Albert glanced back at the body. 'Are you listening to me, Albert? These dead bodies come from strangers who arrive at Junktown and then do something stupid to get themselves killed. No one knows them. No one misses them. And it's my job to dispose of them. Instead of just letting them go to waste, I have them shipped over to the dealer in the Hub. So long as he gets his meat from me, he doesn't have to look elsewhere. He doesn't. Have. To Kill. Do you hear what I'm saying?'

'Where's Theresa? What have you done with her?'

'You're not listening, Albert. Your friend is fine. I _am _a doctor. My primary job is to save the living.'

'Then why is her door locked?'

'The same reason you weren't allowed down here after hours.'

'Take me to her.'

The assistant looked like he was about to make a grab for his SMG but Doc Morbid shook his head.

'I'll be fine,' he said to his assistant. 'You get back to work. I need all this done by the morning when the next caravan comes in.'

With the doctor held at gunpoint in front of him, Albert and his hostage made their way back to Theresa's room where Doc Morbid unlocked the door. Once inside, Albert ordered the doctor to stand in the corner while he moved over to Theresa's bed and gently shook her.

She didn't respond.

'Theresa,' he called.

Nothing.

'She's drugged,' said Doc Morbid. 'Can't have my patients wandering around down here at night.'

'What did you use?'

'Nothing harmful or permanent. I call it junja juice. It's the same thing our mutual friend Razlo in Shady Sands uses before operating on _his _patients. She'll be fine in the morning. Now, could you be so kind as to tell me what you've done with my two guards?'

'They're fine. They may wake up tomorrow naked and bruised, but they'll live.'

'Was that necessary?'

'Says the person who carves up dead bodies to sell. Your guards were assholes. They deserved what they got.'

Just then the door flew open and Tycho burst into the room. Already as jumpy as he was, Albert flinched at the sudden intrusion.

'I'm glad I found you in time,' said Tycho, panting for breath.

'What do you mean?' asked Albert.

'I spoke with Killian just before he closed shop and he told me something about the caravans that I thought you might want to know, but you were gone when I got to your room. I figured you might try to come here.'

'And?'

'I know what you're thinking, but you can't do it.'

Although he kept his gun trained on the doctor, Albert couldn't help but turn his gaze towards Tycho in shock.

'You _knew _about this?'

'Doc Morbid is the only medical practitioner this town has. Every other doctor I've met in the wasteland who knows anything worth shit about medicine has had his training from Morbid. If there's one thing this wasteland needs more of, it's doctors, and Morbid seems to be the only one producing them.'

'You come from a line of rangers, and you're telling me we should let this… this… monster go free? There's no way I'm going to let this continue. Killian's going to hear of this.'

'Think about this,' said Tycho. 'You know what kind of man Killian is. Even if it means every wounded person in Junktown will go without medical attention for the next ten years, he'll still make sure Morbid stays locked behind bars. He'll probably even execute the man if his rulebook says it.'

'How can you tell me to stand idly by while this man chops up dead bodies and sells their parts to cannibals? And how can _you _be okay with this? How can anyone?'

'I'm not, but I also realize that Doc Morbid does far more good than bad. Hell, he's patched me up on more than one occasion.'

'I'm a man of principles, Albert,' said Doc Morbid to Albert. 'As I said, I only use those bodies belonging to people no one will miss. Otherwise they end up in unmarked graves anyway. Despite what you may think, Albert, I am not crazy.'

'That's what's so sick about it,' said Albert.

'I know you're a man of principles too, Albert,' said Doc Morbid. 'I know what you did for that prostitute and the raider who had held her hostage. And I appreciate your sense of honor and duty. But ask yourself this: who am I hurting, really? This has nothing to do with fairness or justice or equality. This is merely an instance of cultural divergence. You've lived in a Vault all your life so things like this are a pure anathema to what you've grown up thinking. But believe me, Albert. If you stay in this wasteland long enough, you will encounter far worse. Save your fights for what really matters.'

For a long while, Albert stared down the barrel at the doctor, almost convinced he would end up pulling the trigger and ending it all. But both Tycho and Doc Morbid had a point. Without Doc Morbid, there would be fewer new doctors and, more seriously, Junktown would have no physician. If someone had ratted out Morbid's activities to Killian before, and if he had been rotting somewhere in jail or executed, Theresa would not have been alive that day.

'Albert,' said Tycho. 'I genuinely hate to have to say this, but sometimes doing the right thing really does mean—'

'Being a very bad person,' Albert finished. 'I know.' His shoulders slumped and he lowered his gun. 'Take this as an exchange,' he said to Doc Morbid. 'You saved Theresa's life, now I'm sparing yours. But if I ever come back and find—'

Doc Morbid raised his hands. 'You have nothing to worry about,' he said reassuringly.

'Is she stable?' Albert asked about Theresa.

'Yes, but if you're thinking of moving her, let me warn you that you might tear her stitches. There is no safer place she can be right now.'

'It'll be fine,' said Tycho, placing a reassuring hand on Albert's shoulder. 'Believe me. I've been down here more times than I would like. Theresa will be fine. And besides, we're leaving tomorrow.'

Albert furrowed his brow. 'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Killian told me a caravan from the Water Merchants down at the Hub will likely be arriving in the late morning. Their caravan is large enough that they have their own wagons.'

'Wagons?'

'Large enough to carry bulky items… or people.'

'Wait, are you suggesting…'

'Theresa's in no condition to move on her own, not at least for another few days. If your mission is as urgent as you say it is, then the sooner we can get the both of you reunited with the rest of your team, the faster you can all decide on what to do next. We'll put Theresa on one of the wagons and offer our services as extra caravan guards as an exchange. We'll be together again with your friends by the end of the week.'

* * *

><p>Natalia stood outside the office of the Water Merchants – the big movers and shakers of the Hub, according to Ian; big enough that, unlike the offices of the Crimson Caravan and the Far Go Traders, they got their own place a way's south of the Merchant Market. Natalia's farming job had spanned the entire day and it was already getting dark. She would have to start heading back soon.<p>

Outside the Water Merchants' office, the lampposts lining the side of the old road flickered to life, surprising Natalia that the town's electricity was actually still in working condition. She couldn't even figure out where it was all coming from.

From where she stood, Natalia gazed up at the huge water tank where the Water Merchants stored what was probably the most expensive commodity in the wasteland. Natalia sighed. If only they had gotten a lead on the whereabouts of a chip, then at least they would have had something to work with and to look forward to. But they had nothing but a list of places, none of which, as Alex had pointed out, seemed promising. If the Hub didn't have a chip, what other place would? The situation seemed bleak and Natalia could not think of what else to do. She wished Albert was here. He may have made his fair share of controversial decisions as team leader since they had left the Vault, but at least he they had always ended up doing something decisive under his leadership.

For now, Natalia was sure of only one thing: the Water Merchants had plenty of water and the Vault needed it. It had been over a month now since they had first left the Vault and that meant that the Vault had only enough water to last them another three or four months. Just the thought of it was enough to give Natalia the first sensations of a slow, creeping panic. And if _she _was feeling this way, she could only imagine how the situation might be for the other vault dwellers back in the Vault who had absolutely no idea what was going on with the team on the outside.

Natalia took a deep breath and stepped in. She found herself in a large room with multiple doors leading to other parts of the house. Hearing voices from behind one of the doors, Natalia walked over and placed her ear against the crack between the door and the frame.

'… I don't care what they say,' she heard a woman saying. 'We need new parts…'

The conversation went on but it was too muffled to make out anything useful. Natalia knocked. She heard the woman's telling her to enter.

Inside, Natalia found herself in a cozy office. Two armed guards stood by the entryway. The woman was standing, apparently in the middle of an animated conversation with the other man in the room who stood on the opposite side of her desk. The woman nodded at Natalia, then turned back to the man.

'Alright, here's the plan,' she said, scribbling down a list of items on a notepad. She tore off the list and handed it to the man. 'This is a reduced list. Tell Dan if he can get me those parts by tomorrow, I'll give him an extra two weeks for the rest.'

'Got it,' said the man, turning to leave.

'Also tell Dan that if he fails to give us what we need, this will be the last time we do business with him. Tell him we'll start outsourcing to other contractors.'

The man nodded, walked past Natalia, and left.

'Sorry,' the woman apologized to Natalia for her distraction. She smiled tersely, her desire to be congenial to a potential customer not yet aligned with her prior state of agitation about business affairs. 'What can I do for you?'

'I'm looking for a water purification chip,' She said. 'People have been pointing me in your direction.'

'Water chip… hmm,' the woman said thoughtfully. 'Oh, those old Vault purifying control chips. Well, I'm sure I speak for the entire town when I say you won't find one here. Without the proper equipment, they're worthless. Only a vault would have any use for one. Why do you ask?'

'I guess it was too much to hope for,' Natalia admitted. 'It just so happens that I _do _have use for one.'

'You mean you're from a…' Natalia nodded. 'Well, I'll be. Never actually meant any of your kind before.' Natalia was about to comment on that observation when the woman's entrepreneurial spirit kicked into overdrive. 'But it sounds like your vault's in a bit of trouble, then.'

'You could say that,' said Natalia.

'Well, I can't help you with the chip, but if there's one thing we at the Water Merchants _can _help you with, it's water.'

'And that's the other reason I'm here,' said Natalia, bringing out her map on her PIPBoy and pointing out the location of Vault-13 to the woman. 'We have a population of around five hundred. How much is it going to cost me for a month's supply of water?'

'Half a thousand,' the woman said in surprise. She glanced down at the map and gauged the distance from the Hub to the Vault. 'It's _quite _a distance away,' she observed before bringing out a notepad and scribbling some hasty calculations to factor in distance, hired help, number of wagons, and every other thing her experience as the assistant head of the Water Merchants had taught her. 'Nine thousand caps should cover the initial caravans,' she concluded.

Natalia's eyes widened in shock. 'Nine _thousand_?'

'You have to understand that every caravan we send out has its share of risks. I have to take that into consideration. Plus, you're talking a huge volume of supplies sent to a location that's off the grid for us. I'm going to need multiple wagons, which means multiple guards, which also means cutting back on some of my _other _routes. All that costs money.'

'We're rationing our supplies. Our consumption rate's probably only about a third of average daily usage.'

'Well, then you should be able to make do with less,' said the woman. 'That's still going to cost you three thousand.'

'Three thousand…' Natalia mused out loud in despair. 'Well what if we just made it two weeks on rationing rates instead of an entire month?'

'You _could _do that,' the woman replied, 'but keep in mind that there are fixed costs for the first caravan, the brahma, and the contracting of a lead merchant to coordinate the whole thing. If you were ever find yourself needing to hire our services again for the remaining two weeks, you would have to pay those fixed costs all over again. Frankly, if you're going to do this, it's in your best interest to buy in bulk.'

'But where am I supposed to get that kind of money?' said Natalia.

'Well, you could always join one of our caravans as a hired gun.'

'Where do you go?'

'We alternate every five days between Junktown and the L.A. Boneyard. Unfortunately, you just missed the last caravan to Junktown – left two-and-a-half days ago. Those trips pay a hundred caps each way. Our next caravan to the Boneyard leaves in two days. Two hundred each way.'

'How long a journey are we talking?'

'About seven days in one direction.'

'That's too long. I don't have that kind of time to spare.'

'Well there _is _one job that might take you part of the way to three thousand… You've taken a look at the bulletin boards around the Merchant Market?'

'I have.'

'Noticed the last job on the list?'

'The one that pays "generously"?'

'That means five hundred caps.'

'How do you know that?'

'The Far Go Traders are our competitors. Of _course_ I know what they're offering.'

'Then you must also know what the job is, because the only thing I've gathered from the ad is that it's dangerous.'

'So's guarding caravans. But to answer your question, from what I hear, the Far Go Traders have been having more and more caravans of theirs go missing. They'd like to blame it on us or the Crimson Caravan but, really, no one knows what's going on. I think they're looking for someone to find out what happened.'

'That sounds like something that could take weeks.'

'It could. But who knows? You may get lucky. The only other way you'll get a quick fix that I can think of is to take out a loan from the Friendly Lending Company. But if you haven't built a history with them, the most they'll let you take out is two hundred.'

'But all that put together doesn't even take me past a thousand.'

The merchant shrugged. 'I'd like to help you, I really would. Your order means big business for us. But I _do _have a business to run. I'll keep the offer open to you as long as you're interested, but how you go about getting those caps is _your_ business.'

* * *

><p>Natalia left the office of the Water Merchants in a daze. The Far Go Traders' "special position" and the loans from the Friendly Lending Company would provide 700 caps in total. That still left 1300. Could they do without this water run to the Vault? Every day they spent searching blindly for the ever-elusive water chip was a day closer to the Vault's depletion of its water supplies. Unless something promising came up, it seemed like too huge a gamble. Ensuring that the Vault was kept supplied during the search seemed to be the most logical option. <em>And <em>it would ease everyone's mind, at least for awhile.

As she retraced her steps back to the Merchant Market, Natalia wracked her brains for every possible opportunity for earning caps fast. For the first time in a long while, the thought of stealing crossed Natalia's mind as a feasible option. As much as she hated to admit it, Alex's argument about the value of her long-forgotten kleptomania was becoming increasingly plausible given the circumstances.

The thought discomforted her. Stealing a bottle of Nuka-Cola for Alex was one thing. Stealing something expensive enough to sell for a few hundred caps was serious business with serious risks.

Where was Albert when you needed him? The empathy Natalia had felt for Albert when he had made those difficult decisions back at Junktown now swelled. She realized just how difficult making decisions for the team really was, and wished he was around so she could hand that responsibility back to him.

Nothing would have given her greater relief than simply to keep doing what she had been doing on the farm, at least until Albert arrived. But the trouble was that she had no idea when that would be. It could be in a more few days. It _could _also be in a few weeks if things didn't go well. It all depended on the progress Theresa was making with her recuperation. The three-and-a-half day journey from Junktown to the Hub was simple and well-travelled enough to make it relatively safe compared to some of the other routes they had traversed since leaving the Vault. But could Theresa walk ten hours a day for three-and-a-half days in her current state? Natalia doubted it.

All this meant that a decision had to be made. And until they hit paydirt with regards to information about a water chip, the best decision Natalia could think of was to start doing everything they could to save up for a water caravan to Vault-13.

It was settled, then. Unless the other three men had anything against it, they were going to volunteer for the "special position" at the Far Go Traders.

Her mind set, Natalia began to pay more attention to her surroundings. To her dismay, she realized that she must have taken a wrong turn at some point while she had been distracted with her own thoughts. Nothing looked familiar anymore. The sun had set a half hour ago and night was beginning to deepen. The crowds had dwindled and dispersed, but not just because it was growing dark; this was also a different part of the city. There were no shops here. No functioning street lamps. The buildings here were unkempt and dilapidated. Natalia felt the beginnings of anxiety creep up on her.

Fortunately, she wasn't completely alone. Every few blocks, she would pass some homeless person sitting by the side of the road, huddled in multiple layers of rags to keep out the night chill as much as was possible. _Unfortunately_, some of those homeless people didn't have the friendliest of expressions as they watched her. With every person she passed, Natalia felt increasingly paranoid, as if the next person might suddenly leap to his or her feet and stick a knife in her ribcage. The small sack of caps that now hung from her utility belt, containing both the payment for her day's work at the farm and what little she still had left from Junktown, was beginning to feel more and more exposed.

She was just about to reach down to make sure the pouch was still there when someone collided with her from behind. She staggered forward as the figure barreled past.

Shocked from the impact, annoyed with herself that she had not seen this coming, and yet relieved that she hadn't, in fact, been stabbed, Natalia shouted at the runner to be more careful in future.

Then it hit her.

Back in the Vault, in her earlier days, she had often deliberately bumped into other vault dwellers, especially at mealtimes in the dining commons, just so she could deftly swipe things off their trays without them realizing it.

Her hand reached down for the pouch of caps and came up empty. Natalia cursed and burst into full speed in pursuit.

As she hurtled forward after the thief, she became remotely aware of the fact that she was getting further and further away from the main part of town. The buildings were becoming more disheveled, as were the people. But this was _her _income for the day. After slaving in the sun for nine hours, she was _not _going to see those caps disappear into the night.

The thief was fast and nimble, and when he (or she) realized that Natalia was not falling behind, began taking to the alleys and meandering through various abandoned houses in the attempt to lose Natalia.

Natalia and the thief kept up their game of cat-and-mouse for what was probably close to five minutes. The burn in her muscles was just beginning to become problematic and Natalia was starting to wonder if she could keep up the pace when, chasing after the thief into what was probably the fifth or sixth home they had barged into, Natalia abruptly lost sight of the thief.

She came to a skidding halt, hoping to hear the sound of running footsteps that would give away the thief's position.

She heard it. But, oddly enough, it was coming from somewhere below.

Natalia cast her gaze desperately around the darkened room until she spotted a staircase leading down into the darkness. Racing down after the thief, she found herself in a strangely empty room. The only ways out of the room, besides the staircase, were two doors at the far end of the room. A single candle on a pedestal between the two doors provided the only light to what would have otherwise been pitch darkness.

Natalia was about to sprint up to the first door when her instincts kicked in and she came to a full stop. What had thus far been a simple, albeit tiring, pursuit had now turned into something else entirely. The thief had _meant _to lead her down here. And that meant that she could no longer follow blindly.

Moving slowly forward, Natalia took in every part of her surroundings, her senses peeled to pick up the slightest indication that something was out of place.

She had made it halfway across the room when she felt it – the gentle resistance of a virtually invisible length of wire against her ankle. She froze and looked down. Sure enough, the tripwire ran across the width of the room to a small crack in the wall on the right side where, on close inspection, she spotted a grenade, primed to explode once the tripwire was triggered.

Despite the knowledge that she had come within a hair's breadth of blowing herself up, Natalia couldn't help but smile. She remembered playing games like this with her friends back in the Vault when she was younger. Of course, none of those games involved explosives, but the techniques were the same. This was her kind of game. And it was exhilarating.

Stepping over the tripwire, she made her way over to the first door. She peered through the keyhole. It took a bit of maneuvering, but she eventually spotted it: a shotgun positioned in the next room, connected by a system of tripwires to the door. If she simply threw the door open, the shotgun would end up blasting a huge hole in whoever was standing in the doorway at the time.

Heading over to the other door, Natalia gave it the same treatment. This one seemed clear. A part of her wondered if there could still be some other booby trap awaiting her. But the thief had gotten through in a hurry and that meant that there should be at least one path that was safe.

Natalia threw the door open but held herself back, just in case. When nothing exploded, she passed through the doorway into a long corridor that led to a single door at the end. Again, a single candle awaited her at the end. Again, Natalia moved forward slowly, realizing, as she did so, that the floor here was made out of wood. It creaked noisily below her. Peering through the cracks, she saw the gentle undulations of water. And then the trap became clear as day.

By the flickering light of the candle, Natalia inspected the corners where the wooden floor panels met the walls on either side. Knowing what to look for, she quickly spotted the panels with hinges. Hinges meant that the panels could give way under the weight of a clueless pursuer.

Easily hopping over the hinged panels, Natalia reached the door at the end of the corridor with little difficulty. She puzzled over the door for a minute before deciding that it was trap-free. Then she turned the door handle and found it locked.

For a moment, she was stumped. Then she slapped her forehead, cursing her forgetfulness. Reaching down to her utility belt, she found the set of locksmith tools she had brought with her from day one. There had been no occasion to use it for the past month and she had completely forgotten about it.

Flashes of memories of all those times in her youth she had snuck into places in the Vault where she didn't belong now came rushing back. Most of the doors in Vault-13 had electronic systems built into their locks, but the locks themselves were still conventional and could alternatively be opened with a key. This was so that in an emergency like a major power failure, those who had the master keys would not get inadvertently locked out of important places they needed to be to solve the problem.

It had been years since she had last put he skills to use but the theory was still the same and Natalia was pleased at how easily it all came back to her. In less than twenty seconds, she had picked the lock. The feeling of satisfaction and nostalgia was like rush as she heard and felt the lock give way.

She turned the handle and entered.

The next room was open and spacious. Bookshelves filled to overflowing lined most of the walls. A long, old, but expensive-looking wooden dining table sat in the middle of the room with matching chairs arranged around it and a candelabrum atop it casting a quaint glow to the whole setting. Three other doorways, one on each side of the room, led into other adjoining rooms. If all this was not indication enough that the booby trapped hallways had come to an end, the presence of a cheerful looking man sitting at the end of the dining table provided the last, if surreal, confirmation.

He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Close-cropped, if slightly curly, dark brown hair with a noticeable widow's peak. Sparkling green eyes. A strong jaw line and five o'clock shadow that reminded Natalia a little of Albert. A white tunic and a brown brahmin-hide vest over it.

Natalia stood uncomfortably in the doorway, not knowing what to expect. The man certainly seemed to have been expecting her. Both his arms were resting on the table and Natalia saw no sign of a weapon. Natalia didn't know what to make of him. He certainly _seemed _friendly – strangely so, given she had just broken into his home or base or whatever this place's function actually was. Could he have been the thief?

'Bloody fine job making it through the defenses, luv! I'm rather impressed,' he called amiably and very animatedly to her, surprising her by his thick English accent. 'Please, take a seat.' His beaming smile won her over, convincing her that his intentions were, at the least, not harmful. It didn't hurt that his affability was contagious.

'You've… got a real interesting accent, friend,' Natalia found herself commenting as she ambled over to one of the chairs. She pulled out a chair but refrained from sitting, still partly on her guard.

'It's a little gift from me Da and Mum,' the man replied. 'Actually, a few generations before that. Do you like it?'

'It suits you,' she complimented.

'Why, thank you. Have to work a bit to keep it with so little refinement about, don't you know. But enough of that. Loxley's the name. And yours is?'

'Natalia,' she said.

'Quite pleased to make your acquaintance actually… for now,' he said. 'Let's get the other bit of politeness taken care, shall we?' His face suddenly grew even more animated than it already was. 'What the _bloody, bloody, bloody_ hell are you doing here?'

That seemed to answer Natalia's question. This couldn't be the thief. But that also made the entire situation even more surreal than before, including Loxley's apparent volatility of temperament.

'I'm following a thief,' she told him. 'He… or she… stole my money and I'm here to get it back.'

'You are, are you?' said Loxley, all trace of his sudden livid outburst gone. 'Cleo!' he called through the nearest open doorway. A young woman, barely Natalia's age, emerged. Natalia recognized the silhouette of her body. It was the thief. She looked sheepishly at the man and then at Natalia. 'This young lady here tells me you stole her livelihood,' Loxley said to Cleo. 'Failed to let me in on that little secret, did you?' The thief didn't reply. 'How many times do I have to tell you,' he said a little impatiently, 'we _only _steal from the rich. Does this woman here _look _rich?' Natalia didn't know whether to feel insulted or justified. 'Give her back her money.'

The young woman named Cleo, still sheepish and ashamed of apparently having broken some thief code of honor, brought out a familiar looking pouch of caps and laid it on the table. Loxley grasped hold of it and tossed it over to Natalia who caught it. Instead of reattaching it to her belt, she slid it into one of the belt's small utility pockets. It might be different in the Merchant Market or bazaar, but Natalia had decided that, at least in this part of town, it wouldn't do to let others see how much money you were carrying.

'Well, this would usually be where one of my people knocks you on the head and leaves you somewhere far, far away so you can't find your way back,' Loxley said, still cheerfully, 'but you're the first person in a while to make it this far. Not my usual method of recruitment, but I'd say you've worked hard enough for a look-see.'

'A look-see… for what?' asked Natalia uncertainly.

'To join the Circle of course,' said Loxley.

'The… Circle?'

'We steal from the rich, plain and simple. And over here, "the rich" usually means the merchant caravans getting fat off the poor. We keep our ears peeled for opportunities and alert our thieves on a rotational basis once such opportunities present themselves. We give about, oh, ten to twenty percent to the poor folks here in Old Town. The Circle keeps twenty, which leaves the rest for the thief. Not a bad deal all round.'

'Merchants are pretty much scum then, huh?'

'Too right! That's why the Circle was formed, you see. You got all those rich buggers feeding off the poor. And those poor are just waiting for a hero. Because of the help we give them, they practically _bow_ at our feet.'

Natalia couldn't help smiling at the image. 'Like Robin Hood,' she observed.

Loxley gasped with almost pre-pubescent joy. 'You know the story!' he almost squealed. 'I _knew_ there was something special about you. Ah, me granddad told that one a long time ago. Now _there _was a thief!'

'So let me get this straight,' said Natalia. 'If I join you, you tell me of opportunities to steal from wealthy merchants. Then, if I take the job, I go out, get it done, and then distribute the earnings once I return?'

'More or less. More like you give _us _the thing you've stolen and we find the highest buyer for you on the black market. But if you _really_ want to join, then you'll have to take the second test.'

'What about the first test?'

'Haven't figured it out yet, have we? The first test was just getting here! That's the only reason I'm considering you.'

Natalia thought it over for a second. If Alex found out about this, she would never hear the end of it. But this was an opportunity.

'How much does each job pay on average?' she asked.

'Well, that depends almost entirely on the job.'

'Does the Second Test count?'

'Indeed it does. And it just so happens that I have_ such _a test just _waiting_ for you should you accept.'

'What is it?'

'It's so, so simple. In the Heights you'll find Daren Hightower's home all plump and ripe for the picking. He's the head of the Water Merchants – swims in money, almost. Well, it's recently come to our attention that he has procured for his own private collection a necklace made of silver, gold, and pressed diamonds. Worth thousands. Literally. We want you to steal it. Do this job successfully, and you'll be set for life!... Or at least the next few months.'

'What stops a potential recruit from just taking the prize and running?' Natalia couldn't help asking.

'Simple, really. First of all, you don't know the underground markets like we do. If you don't know where to look, you'll get cheated in a heartbeat. Second, if we find you unreliable, you'll never see us again. _So_! Are you ready for life? Do you accept the challenge?' Loxley's eyes gleamed with excitement and Natalia couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. Loxley certainly had a stage presence that, if at all possible, was even more dynamic than Albert's. It was hard not to _want _to work with him.

'I'm ready,' she said.


	13. Chapter 12: Deathclaw

**Chapter Twelve: Deathclaw **

'I think it's a great idea,' said Alex the next morning as he and Natalia shared a mutant melon for breakfast, purchased from their wages from the previous day.

'I don't think so,' said Ian as he joined the two of them at the dining table. Stone was still sleeping. Natalia gave Ian a brief look-over for the second time that morning. He had showered, changed his clothes, and shaved. His hair was still as long and disheveled as always but, besides that, Ian looked like a new man. It was about time too. He had moped about for a day-and-a-half while Natalia and Alex had worked their butts of to earn enough to keep them all fed.

'Welcome back,' Natalia said. 'How are you feeling?'

'Like it's time for me to stop feeling sorry for myself and start pulling my weight around here,' he replied.

'You don't owe us anything, Ian. Your offer to use your home has been more than enough,' said Natalia, though she was inwardly glad he was no longer just another mouth to feed. She had been dreading pressuring him to use the caps he had earned from Killian to help support the team. She just didn't have Albert's charisma nor his will to make an uncomfortable decision like that.

'So you say you met the leader of the Thieves' Circle down in Old Town?' said Ian.

Natalia nodded. 'Nearly got my ass blown to hell in the process, too.'

'_I_ tried looking for them once upon a time. Just for kicks. Never found 'em. You say they offered you a job to steal from Hightower?'

'A test,' Natalia corrected him.

'I know some of the mercenaries guarding Hightower's place,' said Ian. 'Worked with some of them in my earlier days as a caravan guard… They're all trigger fingers. If they spot you on Hightower's property, they'll shoot first and ask questions later.'

'I can be quiet.'

'That's not what I'm worried about. Hightower's the actual Head of the Water Merchants. And since they supply the water that keeps everything going, that makes him a very important and influential person in the Hub. Very important and influential people tend to attract the attention of competitors.'

'I… don't see how that involves me,' said Natalia.

'Hightower's had several attempts on his life in the past few years. His mansion is guarded like a jail. He's got a minimum of two guards watching him at all times. Two more patrolling the mansion. And at least two more in the guardhouse. That's a minimum of six at any one time.'

Natalia's shoulders slumped. Two or maybe three guards she could possibly avoid. She had done it back in the Vault during her rebellious days when she used to sneak into places she didn't belong. But six?

'She can do it,' Alex said confidently.

'She could also die trying,' said Ian before turning to Natalia. 'How long a window were you given?'

'Four days. If I haven't succeeded by then, I'm out and someone else will take the job.'

'Well, we've got some time then,' said Ian. If you still think our best course of action now is to get that water caravan to your Vault, then we need money fast and I say we at least give the job offer from the Far Go Traders a look. See what it's all about. If it's an easy job that we can do in less than four days, we can start with that and then worry about other jobs later. Maybe Albert and the rest will have arrived by then and we can look for job openings on caravan runs to earn the balance. Or we can revisit the Hightower option then.'

Natalia thought it over for a second before nodding. 'Alex?' she said.

'Hey, anything's better than shit-shoveling,' he said.

Natalia gave a short laugh. '_You_ _chose _the job,' she pointed out.

'I thought it'd be easy,' he said in his defense.

'And it isn't?' she joked.

'It is,' he affirmed, 'but the smell…' he paused and gave his sleeve a sniff. 'Takes hours to dissipate,' he said. 'And even then… it never quite goes away.'

'So it's settled then,' said Natalia. She received nods all around. 'Alright, then. Let's go wake Stone and head on down to the Merchant Market.'

* * *

><p>They set off in an hour and, on the way to the offices of the Far Go Traders, Ian filled them in on what he knew. The Far Go Traders were one of the big merchant groups "run" by Butch Harris – a man who, according to Ian, wasn't particularly bright but who nevertheless had somehow managed to maintain his position as head of the Far Go Traders for the past five years. Ian clearly didn't think much of him and felt that it was actually his second-in-charge, a man named Rutger, who dealt with the majority of the daily workings of the Far Go Traders. Ian suspected Rutger never tried to usurp Butch's position simply because it left him free to organize the Traders without worrying about personally having to deal with formal town events or take the flak for any unpopular decisions made at the level of leadership.<p>

The Far Go Traders ran caravans to Junktown, the L.A. Boneyard, and the Brotherhood of Steel, trading just about anything, from guns, bullets, food, and brahma, to drugs, tires, dirt, and even scraps of metal. When the vault dwellers cast dubious glances at Ian at the notion of trading dirt and metal trash, he explained that one particular rule about the wasteland was that what was taken for granted in one place could be a highly sought after commodity in a settlement ten miles away.

With Ian as their guide, they reached the offices of the Far Go Traders without a hitch. Having a former resident of the Hub lead them put their minds at ease and made striding nonchalantly into the offices of one of the big three merchant groups in the Hub that much more natural and easy.

The entrance led into a lounge area with a couple of bookshelves, tables, and chairs making up the only furniture. A few caravan merchants were loitering around, reading magazines or playing cards. Ian located Rutger – the man sitting nearest to the only other door in the room. The second-in-command put down his magazine, gave Ian a smile of recognition, and shook hands with the former caravan guard.

'You're not coming back to work for us, are you?' he asked in a joking yet slightly hopeful tone.

'Not in the capacity you're thinking of,' said Ian. 'I have friends here who might be interested in your "special position" job offer.'

'Ah, I see,' said Rutger. He glanced at the vault dwellers, all now dressed in the leather padded armor they had liberated off the corpses of the Khans and carrying either handguns or a shotgun (in Stone's case). 'You look alright,' Rutger commented, nodding his approval. 'You should probably talk to Butch, then,' he said. 'He's through the door behind me.'

On Rutger's instruction, the group passed into the private office where they saw a relatively well-dressed man busy reading reports. He had sandy brown hair that had receded all the way to the crown of his head, long sideburns, bushy eyebrows, and a goatee and handlebar mustache. The clean, white woolen sweater and brown vest made him look quite refined compared to the average citizen of the Hub; refined and rich. He looked up from his papers at their arrival and frowned. He seemed tense.

'What do you want?' he said irritably. Then he recognized Ian. 'Oh, it's you,' he said in none too friendly a manner.

'We'd like to ask you some questions about the j—' Ian started.

'Time is money, chit-chat is _not_ money,' Butch cut him off. 'You here about the job or what?'

'We wanted to ask some questions about it before we decided,' said Ian.

Butch groaned. 'Fine, but make 'em quick.'

'Well… what _is _the job?' Ian said, clearly trying to hide his own irritation.

'Some caravans have been disappearing on us lately,' said Butch, oblivious to Ian's impatience. 'We sometimes get that every now and then, but we've had _three_ go missing just this past month… Too often to be coincidence. We hired more guards but that didn't stop it… Damned if anyone can figure out what happened to 'em.'

'So what do you want us to do?'

'Simple. Find out who's doing it, and tell me. Or take 'em out. It makes no damn difference to me. Just so long as we can make some progress in this damn thing!'

'How much does it pay?'

'Uh…' Butch seemed stumped for a moment. 'Rutger'll handle that,' he said dismissively, recovering from his ignorance. 'He does all the trivial stuff for the Far Go Traders,' he added.

'Any clues on who's doing this?'

Butch scratched his neck uncomfortably and his eyes darted away for a moment.

'Well there's uh… something' He scratched again, his tone switching from annoyance to what almost sounded like fear. 'But I never listen to those rumors,' he added hastily.

'Well we do,' Ian insisted. 'What is it?'

'You uh…' Butch's voice grew even more unsure. 'You _really _want to hear it, huh?' Ian nodded. 'Well, some say it's the Deathclaw.' His voice fell silent and, for the longest moment, no one spoke. Just the name "Deathclaw", even though no one else knew what it was, seemed ominous. 'But… but I don't know nothin' about that,' Butch said quickly, recovering from his momentary lapse of confidence, determined to prove that wasn't a superstitious and weak fool.

'Well, how do we find out more about this Deathclaw, then?' asked Ian.

'"How do ya"…' Butch rapidly repeated Ian's question with a burst of exasperation, as if the question was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. 'Go talk to Beth,' he said dismissively. 'She knows more about that crap. Now are we done wasting time? You gonna take the job or not?'

Ian glanced at the rest of his teammates to gauge their reactions before turning back to Butch.

'You have us for the next three days,' he said. 'If we still haven't found anything by then, we'll re-evaluate and let you know as soon as we can what our plans are then.'

'So… you'll do it?' said Rutger, sounding a little unsure.

Ian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 'Yes, we'll do it,' he said.

'Hot damn!' Butch said with satisfaction. 'Finally. People with guts.'

'So long as the price is right,' Ian added.

'Done and done,' said Rutger, eager to get them out of his office. 'Go talk with Rutger for the financial details.'

Outside, Rutger filled them in on the details.

'The job pays five hundred Hubbucks when you can tell Butch exactly what has been happening to all of the caravans that have disappeared recently. So, collect any proof you find.'

'Hubbucks are the same thing as caps,' Ian explained to his fellow teammates when he noticed their blank stares. 'It's just a fancy term Hubbers use these days.'

Rutger brought the team over to an empty table where he unrolled a map and pointed out the Far Go Traders' caravan routes. Rutger explained to them the occasional disappearance, every once in a few months, was undesirable but unavoidable in the caravan business. In their one trade route that ran to the Boneyard, however, four caravans had completely vanished within the past two months alone.

'I personally think it's those damn Water Merchants or those gun freaks at the Brotherhood of Steel,' Rutger said as they continued gazing at the map. 'Butch thinks it's some Claw of Death or something.'

'Why do you think it could be the Brotherhood of Steel?' Natalia asked, remembering the singer in Junktown mentioning a Brotherhood.

'Well… they're crazy, to begin with,' said Rutger. 'They worship technology or something like that. _And _they have a hell of a lot of firepower. They could easily take out a caravan.'

'And the Deathclaw?' Ian asked.

'Check with Beth,' said Rutger. 'She'd know more about that.'

'Does she still run the Armory?' said Ian.

Rutger nodded. 'I'll get someone to let her know you're working for us. It'll get you the usual fifteen-percent discount.'

Outside, the team members gathered to discuss the situation.

'I don't like our options,' said Natalia. 'If that man's right, then going up against the firepower of the Brotherhood of Steel isn't something we can or should do.'

'So it's either the Water Merchants or the Deathclaw,' said Ian.

'I don't think it's the Water Merchants,' said Natalia. 'I found _out _about this job from them, after all. Why direct us to this very job if they knew it would lead us right back to them?'

'Wait, so that leaves us with chasing after this Deathclaw thing?' said Alex. 'What about just following one of those caravans to the Boneyard? That way, we'll get paid as caravan guards _and _we'll be exactly at the right place if another caravan goes missing. _And_, if there's any trouble, we'll be in the company of other armed guards.'

'That wouldn't work,' Natalia said, shaking her head. 'It's not like every caravan of the Far Go Traders has gone missing. We could easily find ourselves going back and forth between here and the Boneyard without ever finding anything out. And besides, going back and forth from here would take us all of two weeks. We can't leave Albert and the others hanging for that long.'

'There's still the job on Hightower,' Alex offered.

'Not so loud!' Ian hissed at him. 'In case you've forgotten, the Hub police are all over this part of town. And, anyway, I still don't think that's a good idea. There's only so much we can do to help Natalia there and I don't like the idea of her going in alone.'

'So we're back to ' Deathclaw or nothing,' Alex said, none too happy. 'What _is_ it, anyway?'

Ian shrugged. 'Never even heard of it till now. I suspect it's just a superstition Butch latched onto when no other answers about his caravans were forthcoming. Always easier to blame it on the boogeyman.'

'It might still be worth checking out, just to be sure, so long as it doesn't take too much time,' said Natalia. 'What's "the Armory"?'

'Just a fancy name for the weapons store,' said Ian. 'It's run by a woman named Beth. She's good for guns but much better for gossip.'

They found Beth's gun store without any problem. With the 15% discount, Ian made use of the opportunity to browse the wares along with Alex and Stone while Natalia spoke to Beth over at what had once been a cashier's counter. It was easy to get the woman talking. The woman was practically bursting with gossip. And it soon became clear that she had her own theory – one that at least included Butch's hunch.

'I think that's what's taking the caravans,' she said when Natalia asked her about the Deathclaw. 'It couldalso be the Brotherhood of Steel; _they're_ a strange bunch. Some people think it's the Water Merchants, but they're wrong.'

'What makes you say that?' asked Natalia.

'Well,' she said, 'like I've been telling everyone, the Water Merchants have had a few caravans disappear too. Nothing like what's happening to the Far Go Traders, but they _are _being affected.'

'Couldn't they just be lying or couldn't it be part of their plan to make you believe them?' Natalia suggested.

'Good thought,' Beth admitted, 'but I highly doubt it. They've been sabotaging each other for years, but this is not their style. They wouldn't spend that much money to take out the caravans. Plus, all the caravans are very heavily guarded. You would think _someone _would escape. They don't have the manpower or the cash to pull that off. There would have been at least one survivor.'

'But why else would the Far Go Traders get hit more than others?' asked Natalia.

'Bad luck?' Beth said. 'I don't know. Maybe they're traveling along different routes than the others. Maybe because they aren't as heavily guarded as the Crimson Caravan. Maybe they just have better cargo than the Water Merchants. Who knows?'

'So you think it could be the Brotherhood of Steel?'

'Possibly.'

'Why?'

'Don't you know?' Beth said conspiratorially, leaning in close to whisper. 'I heard that they make human sacrifices and do all sorts of other terrible things!'

'Really?' said Natalia, surprised. 'I had no idea.'

'You never know what a person's really like behind closed doors,' Beth said. 'You've got to be careful with who you associate yourself with.'

'So it _might _be the Brotherhood of Steel,' Natalia reiterated. 'What about this Deathclaw thing. What do you know about it?'

'Well, from what I hear, it's located somewhere near where the caravans have been going missing.'

'But what _is _it?'

'The Deathclaw,' said Beth, whispering again, 'is _the_ most evil thing to rise out of the ashes after the War. Some say it's a powerful ghost from the war that haunts the land.' Natalia gave Beth a skeptical smile, not entirely sure if the store owner was trying to pull her leg. 'It's no ghost,' Beth added after the dramatic pause; Natalia felt sure she had told this story to a captive audience before. 'It's as real as you and me,' she continued. 'It's twenty feet tall with teeth as big as your arm.'

Natalia didn't like the imagery, even as vague as it was. 'But what _is _it?' she repeated. 'Is it just a mutated version from some other kind of creature? We've seen plenty of giant rats and scorpions in our journeys. What kind of animal does this Deathclaw originate from?'

'Nothing I know of,' said Beth. 'If you ask me, it's some kind of demon that found it's way here when the world was engulfed by fire.' Natalia would have laughed had Beth's seriousness not given her pause.

'Have you… actually _seen _this Deathclaw?' Natalia asked, still unable to take Beth's account completely seriously.

'No,' Beth replied, 'but I know someone who does. Over in Old Town, there's this old mutant named Harold. He's seen it. He's the _only _one who's seen it and lived.'

'The _only _one?' said Natalia.

'Well, Uncle Slappy talks about it sometimes, but he's just a crazy old fool.'

'Can you tell us where to find them and how to recognize them?'

'Well, neither one of them is actually rooted to any one spot,' she said, 'but they usually hang out pretty close to each other near Jake's.'

'Where's that? And _what's _that?' Natalia asked.

'Jake sells guns like we do here,' said Beth, writing down directions on a notepad and handing Natalia the note. 'But his stuff is overpriced, if you ask me. And you don't get the fifteen-percent discount over there… But you wanted a description; Uncle Slappy's easy enough to spot. He's bald, dresses in rags, and likes to walk around in circles mumbling to himself. Hard to miss. Harold's even easier to identify. The radiation's done a pretty bad number on him, so, like the other mutants in the Old Town, he generally stays off the roads except when he's out begging for money. But if you find Uncle Slappy, you'll find Harold.'

* * *

><p>With the caps he had earned from helping Killian out with Gizmo days ago, Ian purchased a few boxes of ammunition for their various weapons; whatever extra rounds they had taken from the Khans' base was just beginning to run low, so Ian made sure to milk the 15% discount for all it was worth.<p>

Once their purchases were made, the team headed over to Old Town – the easternmost (and most downtrodden) district in the Hub. This time, with the backing of the rest of her friends, Natalia didn't feel quite so vulnerable. It also helped that Ian knew his way around and before long, they found themselves near Jake's.

Natalia was surprised to see Ian gazing longingly at the building.

'Been a while since I've gone in there,' he said. 'Jake's got the best guns this side of the Boneyard.'

'What's stopping you?' asked Natalia.

'Can't afford anything,' said Ian. 'Everything's insanely pricey. But it's all high-end stuff.'

Leaving the Jake's weapon store behind, the team wandered around the slums, in an out of derelict homes and through alleyways, glancing at every beggar they passed. In many of the houses they entered, the roofs and walls were in various states of dilapidation.

'So we're looking for a mutant…' said Alex as they walked, hoping for further clarification.

'A ghoul,' said Ian.

'A _what_?'

'That's what they call 'em,' said Ian. 'People who got exposed to too much radiation and suffered serious physical disfigurations because of it.'

'So what are we expecting?' asked Natalia.

'I… can't really explain it,' said Ian. 'Just prepare yourself for the ugliest person you've ever seen.'

'Is he… contagious?' Alex asked.

'He's not leaking gamma rays, if that's what you're worried about,' said Ian. 'I'd advise you not to rub shoulders with him too much, but I think that'll be a no-brainer once you see him.'

They continued their search, walking around the buildings, until finally the sound of off-key singing caught their ears. They followed it to an alleyway in between two derelict houses where they found Uncle Slappy doing exactly what Beth had described. She had been right. It _had _been easy to spot him.

As they neared, he looked up and stopped walking in circles. He spotted Natalia and his eyes widened.

'Oooh, pretty, pretty stuff,' he said, tottering over to her. Ian stepped in front of her and glared at the mad man. 'Why is the moon?' Slappy said, seemingly confused.

'Beth told us to talk to you about the Deathclaw,' Ian said.

'Beth, Beth, shoo sha Beth,' said Slappy, still making little sense. 'Like Harold,' he said. 'You talk Harold. Harold tell you story. Slappy help then.'

Slappy pointed them through a hole in the wall of the nearest house. Ian went in first, followed by Natalia, Alex, and then Stone.

Inside, all was dark except for a small fire pit in the middle of what had once been a lounge. Bits of wood and junk were fueling the flames. The few windows scattered around the room were closed and had long ago become totally obscured by dust and grime. The noonday sun provided little illumination.

At first, they could see no sign of Harold. But when the figure leaning against an old armchair in the corner stirred, all except Ian jumped, partly from the shock of realizing that the room wasn't unoccupied after all, but mainly because of the ghoul's appearance.

The half-naked mutant who now struggled to his feet to greet them was, without a doubt, the most hideous living creature they had yet seen and even Ian's warning was insufficient to prepare them for what they now saw. Harold's skin, if that was what it was, was a mottled green and, in certain parts, looked as if various kinds of darker green mold were growing on it. In some places, even that skin seemed to be peeling off, revealing raw, pink flesh underneath. The ghoul was obviously undernourished, the outline of his ribcage clear to see. A large growth seemed to have taken over part of his back, making him seem more hunched than he actually was.

But it was his face that got them all – even Ian who, though he didn't show it, was inwardly repulsed by the sight. Harold's face was long – longer than any human face should be, as if someone has turned his face into putty and then purposefully stretched it downwards. He still had tufts of white hair sticking out of the top of his head but only in places where his exposed skull wasn't showing. One of his eyes was welded shut as if the skin had partly melted over it and then hardened. The other eye was an overly large orb that was an unnatural yellow. The pupil in his one good eye was extremely constricted, making the yellow (where the white's of his eye should have been) even more pronounced. As for ears, he had none. Both had dropped off or rotted away a long time ago leaving only ugly holes on either side of his head leading into his ear canals.

Harold's mouth was a mess. His lower jaw seemed to be misaligned with his upper jaw and revealed a partial set of teeth that had been stained blue and yellow. Strips of skin above and below his mouth had peeled or torn off revealing inflamed, red flesh beneath. As for a nose, Harold didn't seem to have one. All they could see were the two nasal cavities, making it look as if he had a very short snout.

Harold gave them a grin that looked almost like a grimace.

'Spare change, old friend, old pal?' he said to Ian, who happened to be standing closest to him. His voice was hoarse and it sounded like he was straining his vocal chords just to speak. 'Can you help a poor mutant down on his luck?' He stopped to give a loud, involuntary, hacking cough.

Everyone tried not to grimace. Under any other circumstances, Ian would have said no and walked on, but the desire to learn anything Harold knew about the so-called Deathclaw made him feel a little more generous.

'Here's twenty-five,' he said, tossing a small sack of caps to the mutant. Aside from individually counting caps, twenty-five was the smallest denomination of caps that Ian kept in small, easily manageable pouches for ease of purchasing; twenty-five was usually what it cost to get a whole iguana-on-a-stick. It was also the standard wasteland price of a night in a motel.

'Oh, kind of ya, friend. Very kind,' Harold said, his yellow eye gleaming at the pouch of caps. 'Y'know, if I could clear the gunk out of there, you just might find a tear in Old Harold's eye.' He gave another cough. 'Rest of the Hubbers been picking on me like a bad booger since I came back to town.' As the reality of the old mutant's lifestyle hit home, the vault dwellers' initial revulsion turned to pity, which swiftly gave way to guilt for having entertained their earlier thoughts of revulsion.

'Why don't you just leave, then?' Alex asked.

'Oh, I couldn't do that,' Harold replied. 'When the deals are done…' he paused to catch a long wheezing breath, 'it's still my home.'

'We're hoping you could help us with something,' said Natalia to break the silence that ensued. 'We need info on the Deathclaw, and we heard you're the man.'

'Oooh, _that _thing,' said Harold with a mix of awe and fear. 'Friend, that is nightmare city. Why the hell you asking about that?'

'We think it may be behind the disappearance of the Far Go Traders' caravans recently,' said Ian.

'Maybe,' Harold said doubtfully. 'I'd personally chalk it up to mutants.'

'Mutants?' said Natalia, surprised Harold would use the term without finding offence in it. 'Do you mean like… like…'

'Like me? No. These mutants are big and well-armed. If you're going up 'gainst _them_, you'll want to be even _better _armed. No offence, but them peashooters you're carrying just ain't gonna cut it.'

'Just tell us about the Deathclaw,' Ian said impatiently, eager to get the conversation back to the matter at hand. They didn't need _another _impossible lead to distract them. Ian didn't know what Harold meant by "big and well-armed" mutants, but _that _prospect sounded as doable as the Brotherhood of Steel.

'Well,' said Harold, 'It's like a damn big… man, is what it is. At least it stands like one. Bigger even than those damn mutants. It's got horns, and spikes and claws that can cut through the heaviest armor. And don't let the size fool ya. It's quick.'

'But what is it, exactly?' asked Natalia.

'Damned if I know,' said Harold. 'Some kind of mutated lizard thing, maybe.'

'Any weaknesses?' asked Ian.

'Well, from what I've heard, maybe… hit it in the head?'

Ian gave him a dubious look.

'I'd try the eyes,' Harold continued. ''Course, there's a problem there.'

'What kind of problem?' said Ian.

'You can't look at 'em!' Harold replied. 'It's said the Deathclaw can hypnotize just by lookin'. Then it walks up and "Boom!", you're et!'

'Do you know where it is?' asked Natalia.

'Somewhere to the south, if memory serves,' said Harold. But that's Slappy's territory now. He wanders around those parts quite often. I'm surprised how he survives, actually…'

The vault dwellers shared a look amongst one another and came to the silent conclusion that they had all they needed.

'Well, thanks for the information,' said Natalia. 'We'll swing by if there's anything else.'

'Good luck to you,' said Harold. 'You're gonna need it.'

Outside the shack, the vault dwellers gathered to discuss this new information. Slappy was walking around in circles again and seemed oblivious to them.

'Think it's real?' asked Natalia.

'No clue,' said Ian. 'But it's the only lead we have. That is, unless you want to spy on the Water Merchants or pay a visit to the Brotherhood of Steel.'

'We need more information,' said Natalia, and then walked over to Slappy. 'We talked with Harold,' she told Slappy. 'The Deathclaw sounds pretty nasty. Anything _you_ can tell usabout it?'

'Deathclaw, Deathclaw, dah dah Deathclaw,' Slappy sang.

'Come on,' Ian said impatiently. 'What do you know about the Deathclaw?'

'Deathclaw scary, really scary,' said Slappy. 'Looks neat though,' he added. 'Wanna see it?'

'You can take us to the Deathclaw?' said Natalia hopefully.

'Yeah, Deathclaw Deathclaw, going to see the Deathclaw,' Slappy replied.

'Just shut up and take us there,' Ian said irritably.

'Wait a minute!' said Alex to everyone including Slappy. The old man gave him a vacant stare. 'Is this something we really want to do?' Alex said to the group. 'This Deathclaw thing… if it's real… do we want to go up against something like that?'

'We just need to find out if it's behind the missing caravans,' said Ian. 'Besides, we have guns and it has claws. The only problem we've ever had with wild animals is that they tend to attack in packs. This is just the one from the sound of it. Plus I'm actually curious to see what it looks like.'

'_And_ we need to start working our way towards having enough to make that water order,' Natalia reminded Alex. 'We can't just keep doing menial jobs that pay pittance for a day's work. All Butch is asking for is to find out what happened. No one says we actually have to go up against anything.'

'You were all for Natalia risking her life in an attempt on Hightower's mansion not too long ago,' Ian pointed out.

'I know, but that's…' Alex started.

'You selfish little bastard,' Ian said angrily as he came to a sudden realization. 'You were okay putting _Natalia's _life in danger but when it comes to your own—'

'It's not like that!' Alex protested. 'With that Hightower guy, it's different. It's… it's just _people_… _human_ _beings_. But this… thing… is…'

'It's not in your simulations is what it is,' said Natalia, coming to her own realization. 'Look we don't even know if it's really what everyone seems to think it is. Heck, Beth and Harold don't even seem to agree on the actual size of the thing.'

'Weren't you the one who said anything beat shoveling shit?' said Ian.

'I…' Alex was at a loss for words, but the distress on his face was clear. He did _not _like the idea of seeing the Deathclaw up close and personal.

'It's alright,' Natalia conceded, placing a hand on Ian's shoulder to stop him from continuing to beat down on Alex. 'If you don't want to accompany us, that's okay,' she said. 'Maybe you could pass a message to Albert and the rest if they arrive while we're gone.' She turned to Slappy. 'How far away is this Deathclaw?' she asked.

Slappy stuck up one finger. 'One day, one way,' he said.

'An entire day?' Natalia asked.

Slappy pursed his mouth and visibly vacillated.

'A daytime day or a full twenty-four hours day?' asked Ian.

'Seven!' Slappy exclaimed suddenly, his eyes brightening. 'Lucky to be! See?'

Ian groaned. 'We're not going to get a sensible estimate from him,' he concluded. 'Maybe we should just get started then.'

'You realize that if this search comes up empty, we lose two days worth of work, and most of our remaining travel rations, with nothing to show for it…' said Natalia.

'Or we gain five hundred caps,' said Ian.

Natalia was silent for a moment before nodding. 'Let's do it. But I'd rather not approach the Deathclaw at night, if possible.'

'Nor I,' said Ian. 'If it's dark when we reach, we'll just camp a few miles off and check it out when it's light. Still, we ought to make a stop at Mitch's to get a few flares just in case.'

* * *

><p>An hour later, stocked with ammunition and flares, the group, minus Alex, were on their way south with Slappy as their guide. He may have been crazy, but he was certainly sane enough to know how to travel. He brought with him an old stale loaf of bread wrapped in a bundle of cloth and tied to a stick and an old plastic bottle half filled with water. Seeing his wretched state, the two vault dwellers and Ian were only too ready to share with him their travel provisions – a gesture he was more than pleased to accept.<p>

On their part, Alex's desire to stay behind and hold the fort proved a mixed blessing. While they no longer had an extra gun on their side, his presence back at Ian's place meant they could leave most of their belongings behind and bring only the essentials. In short, their travel load to the Deathclaw was significantly lightened, allowing them to travel faster.

They had gone almost six hours and the sun was getting low in the sky when Slappy stopped and pointed to a hilly area in the distance to the southeast. At this point, the road they had been following had started to bend to the southwest, meaning that they would have to go cross-country to reach the hills. The group left the road and found shelter in the shade of the nearest rocky outcropping. No longer as visible as they would have been had they simply stopped at the roadside, they made camp, discussed a plan for how to go about approaching the Deathclaw's lair the next day, and then got some rest, taking turns at guard duty to ensure that nothing would ambush them as they slept. If Slappy was right about the distant hills, they were still at least two or so miles from where the Deathclaw was supposedly located, but one could never be too careful. The lack of wildlife for the past hour told them just how far up the Deathclaw was in the local food chain.

* * *

><p>The next morning, they had a quick meal, checked their weapons, and gathered for one last briefing.<p>

'So we go in quiet and check the place out,' said Ian, reminding them of the plan they had discussed the previous night. 'If we're lucky, maybe the thing won't even be around and we can check for evidence of any attacks it might have made on caravans – corpses of guards or merchants, goods from the wagons, dead brahma… anything to indicate the Deathclaw's been going after the caravans. If we're unlucky and it's around, then shoot first and ask questions later. Between the three of us, we should have enough firepower to bring it down quickly so long as it doesn't get the jump on us.'

Breaking down their camp and concealing their already light packs as best as they could, bringing with them only their weapons, ammunition, and emergency medical supplies, they made their way across the hills. Eventually, after almost an hour of navigation, Slappy brought them to the top of one of the hills where they had a clear view into the valley below and of the opening of a cave set near the base of another hill further east.

'You've seen it go in and out of there?' Ian asked Slappy. The old man grinned affirmatively.

'Should've known,' said Natalia. 'Nothing good ever happens when we go into a cave. We're gonna be much less defensible than out in the open.'

'Well, we can't go back now,' said Ian. 'Not without knowing for sure.'

'Right,' said Natalia, unholstering her Desert Eagle and cocking the slide, sending a .44 JHP round into the chamber. 'Let's go.'

Instructing Slappy to wait for them there at the top of the hill, they edged their way to the entrance of the cave without incident. All was silent.

'We could sure use Tycho's ranger tracking skills right about now,' said Natalia. 'I just want to know whether or not we should be expecting it inside.'

'You should always be expecting something,' said Ian, reaching for a flare from his utility belt, and twisting the top to activate it. By its light, he led the way into the Deathclaw's lair.

Flashbacks of the various rats and scorpions they had faced in previous caves came rushing back to Natalia but, fortunately, the three of them came across nothing as they moved deeper down the tunnel. Then she realized that that was probably because if this Deathclaw actually existed and even remotely resembled the descriptions given by Harold and Beth, no other creature would be dumb enough to want to share a cave with it, not even that enormous mole rat they had killed back at Vault-15.

They had not gone much further when they finally came across something non-mineral based. But it was not a pleasant discovery.

Lying by the side of the tunnel was what appeared to be a broken eggshell leaking some sort of greenish albumen. Natalia knelt down and tried to fit together the two broken halves to get a sense of how big it had actually been. The egg's reconstructed shape came up to about a foot-and-a-half in height.

'Well…' Natalia said, a little shakily. 'There's at least two Deathclaws. And they're real.' The other two remained silent but gripped their weapons more tightly. They stopped and tried to listen more attentively to their surroundings, but the soft burning of the flare was enough to mask any ambient noise. If the Deathclaw or its offspring was in the cave, it surely wouldn't take long to notice their presence. Fortunately, the tunnel was wide and, so far, hadn't branched into multiple passages. If it _was_ within the caverns and tunnels, it would have to come at them from the front rather than ambush them from the rear.

The trio carried onward, noting as they did so that the tunnel began bending southwards and then to the southwest. Much to their relief, they came across no other egg shells, broken or whole, and all was fine until the tunnel finally opened out into a large clearing, almost the size of the one in which the radscorpions had ambushed them.

The orange-red glow given off by the flare masked some of the natural colors of their environment, so, at least initially, the cave appeared empty. Then, as Ian tossed the flare further in so as to illuminate the entire span of the cavern before them, the large object that they had taken to be a boulder near the far wall moved. It had been crouching over something, but the blatant intrusion into its privacy caused it to rise and turn to face them. And then, all of a sudden, all their questions about the Deathclaw's actual appearance were finally and abruptly laid to rest.

The beast that rose to greet them was a hunchbacked reptilian creature with long, powerful legs and arms that ended in wicked-looking foot-long claws that reached all the way to the ground. Its long scaly tail thumped repeatedly against the cavern floor in clear agitation at the interruption. Its head was fearsome to behold – large pale eyes set deep into its bony skull glared menacingly at them, never mind that it had no pupils they could see. Its maw opened to reveal a row of fearsome fangs. Two short but curled horns protruded from the sides of its head that, in the orange-red glow of the flare, gave it an almost demonic look. As it raised itself on its two muscular feet, demonstrating to them its full height, they became increasingly and painfully aware that Harold's description had been accurate. The creature was easily ten feet tall, maybe a little more.

They should have started firing but none of them could escape the terrible awe that its mere presence cast on them. Its eyes may not have had a hypnotic effect, but its entire form certainly did. All traces of skepticism about the accounts others had given of it vanished into thin air as the Deathclaw lowered itself to the ground, opened its maw, and gave a terrifying roar before galloping towards them on all fours.

Its burst of speed shook them out of their stupor when they realized just how quickly it was closing the distance between them. The cave was suddenly filled with the discharge of three different kinds of firearms. Many of the rounds hit their target but, to their dismay, did nothing to halt the charge. Even two 12-gauge shells from Stone's shotgun, striking the Deathclaw in the left side of its chest, only knocked it off balance for a second, and then only managed to slow down the creature's advance.

This time, Stone had learnt from his lesson with the mole rat in the caves of Vault-15. His double-barreled shotgun empty, Stone dropped the weapon and leapt to the side to avoid being bulldozed. Unlike the mole rat, however, the Deathclaw was a lot more nimble and, having identified Stone as the biggest threat, altered its path of rampage. Stone's evasive act saved him from being hit head-on, but it wasn't enough to avoid the enraged Deathclaw. The monster lunged, striking Stone in the chest with its left claw. Stone spun in midair from the impact and landed heavily on the stone floor. The Deathclaw skidded to a halt and turned. By then, Ian's SMG had clicked empty. The last few 10mm rounds peppered the Deathclaw's back with no effect. Natalia's Desert Eagle was fast running empty. To their horror, they realized, beyond all of their expectations, that the one advantage they had had over the Deathclaw was quickly running out, literally.

Ian snatched for a spare clip but the Deathclaw was already on the move and this time it had picked Ian as its next target. Natalia fired her second last round at the creature's head, hoping to penetrate its skull and stop it cold where all the previous bullets had failed. The Deathclaw was moving too fast and the round bullet merely chipped one of its horns. But the Deathclaw was a lot closer now and the Desert Eagle packed enough of a punch to knock its head back and get its attention. The Deathclaw changed targets at the last moment and headed straight for her. Three bounds was all it would take and then it would be on top of her.

Natalia knew she had no time to leap aside without it screwing up her last shot. And after what had happened to Stone, she wasn't keen on trying. So instead she took her first step directly towards the charging monster. Then she used that small forward momentum to carry her into a controlled fall, kicking both her legs forward and letting gravity pulled her body down so that she would land on her rear end and back.

The Deathclaw had launched itself at her and was less than two feet away when she fired off her last round. She saw one of the Deathclaw's pasty white eyes implode as the .44 round tunneled its way into the creature's eye socket. Then her controlled fall took over as gravity asserted itself. The Deathclaw's immense body passed mere inches as it sailed over her. Natalia felt one of its claws brush harmlessly through her hair and then the coldness of the stone floor as her back connected with the ground.

From where she lay, Natalia looked back behind her to see the damage she had done. Partially blinded by the sudden pain, the Deathclaw had collided into the cavern wall and was stunned. But only for a moment.

The creature turned and fixed Natalia with its one remaining eye. Natalia frantically grabbed for an extra magazine from her belt, already knowing that she wouldn't have time. The Deathclaw took two steps towards her and raised its claw with the intention of bringing it down decisively onto her head. But before it could make that final swing, Ian, who had managed to reload his weapon, let loose with a full burst. At this range, the SMG was much more effective. Most of the thirty rounds from the fresh magazine hit home, with the majority striking the Deathclaw's neck and head. The creature jerked repeatedly from the gunfire and, by the time the gun clicked empty, the Deathclaw's face was a mangled, unrecognizable, bloody mess.

The Deathclaw stood immobile for a full second before collapsing forward. Ian grabbed a hold of Natalia's ankles and gave her a hard pull, dragging her away at the last moment as the Deathclaw's body came crashing down onto the spot where she had lain a second before.

The threat passed, Ian collapsed onto his back next to Natalia. Both were breathing hard. Then they both remembered Stone. Natalia was up first, racing over to Stone and, with some effort, rolling him over onto his back.

She gave a cry of dismay as the damage revealed itself. The Deathclaw's claw had caught onto Stone's ribcage, and with the monster's incredible momentum, had been enough to effectively tear the left half of Stone's body open, snapping at least five ribs in the process. Even in the dimness of the distant flare, it was clear that he was already dead. Natalia collapsed to her knees.

'Nonononono…' she moaned as she reached for the mess of flesh and tried futilely to close the ragged hole. Ian came behind her and grabbed her wrists, trying to pull her away from Stone's corpse. At first she resisted, her cries of denial growing louder and becoming redirected at Ian. Then they turned into unbridled sobs of anguish and horror as she finally relented and collapsed backwards against Ian. The former merchant guard did the only thing he knew to do, keeping hold of her wrists but hugging her tightly against his chest as her sobs wracked her body.

They must have sat that way for over twenty minutes. The flare died and they were alone in the darkness. Gradually Natalia's cries grew softer and then faded into her silence. Gradually, her body stopped shaking. Ian was overcome with an overwhelming sense of protectiveness, which was probably a good thing for him from a practical standpoint. Without that paternal instinct, he realized he might have ended up having his own breakdown. He had seen plenty of people die before, but most of them had been caravan guards falling at the hands of raiders – a gunshot or a knife or spear wound. On occasion, one might get stung by a radscorpion or bitten by a pig or mole rat. Without treatment, the guard might eventually die from poisoning or infection. But Ian had never seen someone mauled to death like that, not even by mole rats. And just the thought of just how much ammunition they had poured into the Deathclaw's body still astounded him. The creature had at least two shotgun slugs, four or five .44 rounds, and dozens of 10mm bullets now embedded in its corpse. Yet even that had barely been enough.

And then of course there was the issue of how the only one of them who had died was the one who hadn't been involved in the decision making to go on this little expedition in the first place. Ian knew this was what was churning around in Natalia's mind. He knew she thought this was all her fault, but he didn't know what to do about it.

_This must be what it's like to be a leader_, he thought to himself. It was one thing to have your friends die. It was another to have your friends die _because _of a decision you made.

In the silence that now filled the cave, Ian started at the sudden groan that came from the far end where the Deathclaw had first been crouched. Ian cursed silently and snatched for his empty SMG, quickly locating a spare magazine and reloading the weapon. Another groan and Ian was on his feet after making sure Natalia could sit on her own. Then he reached for another flare from his belt, lit it, and threw it over to where the old one was. This time, he spotted the thing that had originally been the object of the Deathclaw's attention.

Initially, Ian was confused. At first glance, it seemed like it was Stone who was lying over at the far end of the cave. Yet Stone was right there next to them!

Giving the cave another quick survey to make sure there were no other surprises, Ian left Natalia's side and walked over to the humanoid figure at the other end of the cave. Along the way, he passed by the broken remains of two more giant eggs that he presumed belonged to the now deceased Deathclaw. Ian just hoped the babies were far away, dead, or at least not vengeful types. Preferably all three.

Putting that thought aside for the moment, Ian continued on to the figure, lying on its back, immobile. As Ian neared, it became quickly apparent that the figure's resemblance to Stone in terms of size had been erroneous. The man, or whatever it was, was about a foot taller than Stone, and that was only because his back was severely hunched; straightened to his full height, Ian suspect that he would have dwarfed Stone by an additional two feet. In addition, this thing was much bulkier than Stone ever was. And it was all muscle too. As for its mottled skin, Ian couldn't tell what its color actually was in the reddish glow of the flare, but it certainly wasn't the tone of human skin.

The mutant, for that was the only word Ian could think of to describe him, was missing an arm and had a gaping hole in his stomach. Some of his entrails were half-masticated and lay partially hanging out of his abdominal cavity. And yet, the most disturbing thing of all was that the mutant was still breathing!

The mutant groaned again and this time, Ian heard the word 'Masterrr…' emerge from his oversized lips. His voice seemed human enough except that it sounded like someone had attached a heavy bass output unit to his vocal chords. The mutant's eyes reflected the orange-red of the flare as they turned to focus on Ian. Even though the mutant was such a grossly exaggerated version of a human being, Ian could still recognize the glazed, partially unfocused look in the mutant's eyes. Pain and delirium, at least, were common to both human and mutant.

'It was so fast…' the mutant said, straining his neck so he could get a better look at Ian. Ian was both disturbed and fascinated by the notion that the mutant was still able to speak. Any human who had suffered those kind of injuries would have died a long time ago. 'My brothers were gone… Could not help…'

'Who are you?' Ian asked, his curiosity overriding any sense of compassion. Ian had never really cared much for the few ghouls he had met and this giant mutant was no different. He didn't _hate _any of them because of what they were, but he had never really empathized with them in the way he would another fellow human being, and considering the number of raiders he'd killed in his time, the disparity was even more stark. Right now, there were no signs of any destroyed caravans or the remains of caravan guards or merchants that Ian could see, and the prospect of heading back to the Hub with a casualty count of one and nothing productive to show for it was becoming a looming probability; Ian at least wanted to know what this new puzzle was all about.

'I, I'm… I can't remember…' said the mutant. 'Was the leader of… It… Maybe my holodisk…'

To Ian's surprise, the mutant, even with half his organs mangled and not even in their proper places, managed to reached down to a flap in the harness wore around his waist and shoulders and pulled out a tiny wrist-sized, rectangular, disc-like object. Ian recognized it only by descriptions others had given to him: a high-density, laser-readable, manufactured-crystal storage device that could hold over 4,000 gigabytes of information. In the circles he operated in, Ian had never found any kind of machine that could actually run a holodisk let alone the disc itself, but then again, those things had always been above his pay grade and beyond his field of interest.

Yet now the mutant was weakly handing over to him this flimsy and blood-covered piece of equipment. Ian took it from the mutant, noting as he did so just how much larger the mutant's hand was than his own. Ian slipped the disc into his own utility belt.

'Where did you come from?' he asked.

'We… We were scouting for primes…' said the mutant. Ian didn't know what that meant. 'Came from… From the northwest.'

'Who sent you?' Ian pushed. It was clear the mutant, for all his fortitude, was weakening and Ian wanted to get as much out of him before he kicked the bucket.

'Father… Where are you father?' said the mutant, no longer talking to Ian. Ian realized the mutant was hallucinating. 'Yes Master…' the mutant said to some invisible figure he thought he saw above him. Then the mutant breathed his last breath and collapsed back, his head audibly striking the stone floor.

Ian sighed heavily. Stone was dead, Natalia was an emotional wreck at least for the time being, their trip had come up empty on the caravan issue, he had a holodisk that he didn't know how to operate, and now this mutant from the northwest would never speak again. Wondering how he was ever going to explain this to Alex, let alone Albert and the rest when they arrived, Ian walked back over to Natalia. Uncle Slappy would (hopefully) be waiting for them outside so long as the missing three baby Deathclaws hadn't got to him, and Ian wanted to get them all back to the Hub before nightfall. For now, at least, Ian was prepared to admit that the mission had been an utter failure.


	14. Chapter 13: The Price of Water

Okay so… I guess I lied about there being less character internalization. What can I say? I think I intellectualize about my writing as much as my characters do about their circumstances.

In any case, thanks so much for all the feedback these past few weeks while I've been busy doing other work. I especially appreciate feedback that points out inconsistencies or things that detract from the realistic feel I'm trying to give to the story. Keep 'em coming. If you alert me to something I wrote about that I can't logically explain, I may just end up including new content that was sparked by your idea.

So there are a few important points to note. I generally try not to make changes to previous chapters (aside from typo corrections) but these had to be done:

In order for the characters in this chapter to have reason for a second conversation with Harold, I needed for him to have briefly mentioned something about mutants in their first conversation with him. That change has been made in chapter 12.

I realized that there was no rational reason given for why Tycho decided to join the group to the Hub. That's been included around the beginning of chapter 11.

I did calculations for how much water people actually consume in a day, and I realized it was just not possible to supply Vault-13 with water for a month if it had 1000 residents. Even with water rationing, just imagine how much water 1000 people would consume in 1 day and multiply that by at least 28 days; then think of how many wagons you'd need to transport that much water. As a result, I changed 2 things: (1) I decreased the number of residents in Vault-13 to 500. There's mention of that in chapter 5 where it used to be 1000; (2) just thinking of how much water needs to be transported, I realized that 2000 caps is just way too cheap for the caravan. So I bumped it up to 3000. That's reflected in chapter 11.

Last point. On the Stone issue. I believe more than one person has pointed out how he has been a largely invisible character and I appreciate that note. This was partly deliberate. It is true that I had sort of planned out his plot trajectory from the start, but the reason for his general lack of contribution to the group was because I meant for him to be both relatively less intelligent and, therefore, understandably, more silent. Also I just made him a die-hard introvert in general. Even so, I recognize that on many occasions he was _too _invisible. When I'm done with this novel, I will consider going back and fleshing him out a little more. For now, though, his character development is no longer an issue. Thanks to those who pointed it out though!

**Chapter Thirteen: The Price of Water **

The house was as quiet as a grave. It had taken forever for Ian to get Natalia back to the house. They had stood by the road to the house for almost a half hour before Ian had finally convinced her that they needed to get back before it got dark. When they had finally gotten to the door and Alex had emerged to greet them, Natalia had walked right past and locked herself in one of the rooms, leaving Ian to explain everything to the stunned younger man. Fortunately, Alex was tactful enough not to throw them the 'I-told-you-so' line; it was pretty obvious that none of them were in the mood for snide comments.

'So there was nothing on the caravans at all?' Alex asked as he sat with Ian at the dining table.

'Just that giant mutant,' Ian said dejectedly. 'Oh, and this,' he added, devoid of enthusiasm, as he produced the small holodisk and laid it on the table. Next to it he placed a handheld radio communicator, model number 2043B. 'I found this after rifling through the mutant's utility harness,' said Ian. 'Apparently it's got a slot where the holodisk fits in, so maybe it's a recording of some sort, but I couldn't figure out how to get the radio to replay the disc, only to overwrite or record new transmissions on it.'

'Did you hear anything on the set?' Alex asked. 'Maybe there were more transmissions.'

'Nothing,' said Ian. 'It's a short distance communicator. Whoever that mutant was contacting must've simply been too far away. Or they just didn't think of checking in.'

'Not a big deal,' Alex said. 'It might have given us a few more clues, but we don't really need it. Our PIPBoys can reads holodisks.'

'They can?' Ian looked up in surprise.

'Yeah, they also have a slot right here,' Alex showed Ian the small disc slot in the side of his PIPBoy. Alex took the holodisk from where it lay and on the table, inserted it into the slot, and downloaded the data. In a few seconds, the download was complete and Alex pointed on the PIPBoy's screen. Ian looked over at the file of some kind of sound clip. It had been labeled "January-9-2162, 20:01".

'Ready?' said Alex. Ian nodded. Alex opened the file. As the two men listened, it became apparent that it was a recording of a radio exchange. The first voice, Ian guessed, belonged to the mutant who had given him the holodisk. The second was just as deep and bass-like, suggesting, that the other speaker could easily have been a mutant just like the first.

**Voice 1: Base, this is Scavenger Team Two come in. Over.**

**Voice 2: We're reading you loud and clear, go ahead. Over.**

**Voice 1: We've collected four males, two females, and their supplies from the caravan. They're not too badly contaminated. Tell the Lieutenant that we're sending them ahead, they might be able to survive the process. We're going to wait here for a few more days to try and intercept another caravan. Over.**

**Voice 2: Roger that. Were any casualties accrued during the acquisition? Over.**

**Voice 1: Negative. Another clean sweep. Base, also tell Scavenger Team One that we've run across the same problem they had. One of our scouts did not return from his perimeter patrol. A few of our other scouts reported that there was something big and fast seen near our camp last night. I'll be checking it out personally at 0600 hours tomorrow morning. Over.**

**Voice 2: Copy. We'll be awaiting your report. If possible, try to capture it. The Master would be very pleased. Over.**

The two men were silent when the clip reached its end. So it had been _mutants_ who were behind the caravan disappearances and not the Deathclaw after all! If it were at all possible, Ian now felt even less empathy for that dying mutant than before. In fact, Ian felt glad the mutant had gone after the Deathclaw and had his guts ripped out in the process because otherwise the attack on the Deathclaw would really _have _been pointless. But now it was finally clear that Stone's death hadn't been in vain. It was a tragedy, no doubt, but now at least it had meaning.

The transmission did give them both cause for concern, however. Judging by the sounds of it, these mutants had been targeting the caravan personnel for a reason. In addition, these mutants had to be a formidable force to have taken the caravans without a single casualty, at least according to the transmission. Ian wasn't surprised. If the members of "Scavenger Team Two" were all of the size and form of the mutant in the cave, it certainly seemed plausible if not probable that caravan guards were little match for them.

'Harold!' Ian declared suddenly as he recalled their earlier conversation with ghoul. Harold had been right about the mutants after all! They would have to pay him another visit.

Ian was about to explain his thoughts to Alex when a sudden knock on the door jolted them back to reality. Both snatched their guns and leapt to their feet.

'Ian?' called a familiar voice. The two men sighed in relief. Ian went to get the door. Outside, they found Albert and Tycho helping Theresa to the door, each one supporting her by an arm over the shoulder. Dogmeat followed behind. By the not-so-distant main road, they saw a caravan comprising two wagons pulling off towards the Hub.

'We didn't expect you so soon,' said Ian.

'It's been almost a week,' Albert pointed out.

'We thought it might be two.'

'Being able to hitch a ride with a caravan helped.'

Back inside, Albert and Tycho helped Theresa to one of the chairs. Shortly after, the moment Ian had been dreading arrived.

'Where's Natalia and Stone?' Albert asked.

'Natalia's in the room,' said Ian. 'Stone's… Stone's no longer with us, Albert.'

'What?' exclaimed both Albert and Theresa simultaneously.

Ian sighed. 'I need a drink,' he said. 'Did you bring anything?'

Tycho produced a flask of whiskey from one of the pouches on his pack and handed it over. Ian poured a generous amount into a lowball glass and handed back the flask. He finished half the glass in one draught before proceeding to narrate the events of that morning. Everyone listened in silence at the news of the first death of their party. Perhaps in some ways limited by his less well-attuned intellect, he had always been the least vocal member of the group and no one had really gotten to know him well for that reason. Now it was too late and the team members felt the loss doubly hard.

'Where's Stone's body now?' Albert asked finally when Ian was done.

'Still in the cave. We gave him what little of a burial we could with some rocks we found lying around. At least it'll keep wild animals away from his body.'

'You just… _left _him there?' Theresa said in disbelief.

'There was no way we could have dragged his body back this far and made it back before nightfall,' said Ian. 'I didn't want us to have to fend off another deathclaw. Not even a baby one.'

'He's right,' Albert said. 'You did the right thing,' he said to Ian in affirmation. Theresa stared wide-eyed at Albert but said nothing. Albert got up. 'I need to talk to Natalia,' he said.

Ian got up as well. 'I'm not sure that's a good idea right now,' he said. 'Maybe you should give her some time.'

'Time is not on our side,' said Albert heading to the room.

He knocked once and when he got no reply, he knocked a second time and identified himself. When there was still no reply, he said, 'Natalia, eventually you're going to have to open the door. No one gets a room to themselves and Theresa's going to have to use the bed until she recovers.' He gave a pause and when there still was no response, he said, 'I'm coming in, alright?' He opened the door a crack and waited again. When the opened door incited no reaction, he opened it all the way and entered, closing the door behind him as he did so.

Inside, Albert had expected to see Natalia in the same state or worse than she had been right after the fight with the Khans. Instead, she was leaning over the low dresser at the far end of the room, resting her upper body weight on her two arms. Her head was lowered, her back facing him. She seemed stressed but in control. Albert was impressed. This wasn't the same Natalia who had suffered a serious breakdown after the attack on the Khans. This Natalia seemed seasoned against horrible experiences, at least to an extent.

'I know what happened,' said Albert.

'You don't,' she replied, much to his surprise. Her voice sounded croaky from crying but it was cold and low. She had suffered from what had happened but it seemed like she had come to terms with it. 'You never could have known for sure that Gizmo would send his thugs after Theresa,' she continued. '_I _knew what I was getting Stone and Ian into. And I did it anyway. And Stone was the only one who never had a say in the matter…'

'Don't cheapen his sacrifice,' Albert said bluntly, catching Natalia by surprise in return. She turned to face him, having expected more sympathy. This wasn't the same Albert who had sat beside her after the attack on the Khans, providing nothing overt but only silent comfort and support. 'Stone was perfectly capable of speaking up if he hadn't agreed with the plan,' Albert continued.'_You _were there when we talked about attacking the Khans. Stone was the only one supporting me at first, remember? Back then, he was willing to lay his life on the line for one person, Tandi. Here he was willing to do it again for an entire Vault. Stone was smarter than any of us gave him credit for. He was there with you in the cave because he _wanted _to be. Don't deny him that.'

Natalia stared hard at him. She sensed the change. But he also had a point and she had already come to her own conclusion: she couldn't forget what she had done, couldn't wash away the guilt, but she _could _make sure it didn't consume her. Albert's argument made sense and it would help her process at least some of the pain.

'We're all going to make mistakes,' said Albert. 'I've already made some of my own. The only way forward is to learn from them.'

'What did _you _learn?' Natalia asked genuinely.

'That sometimes risks must be taken,' he replied. His frankness again caught her by surprise, though less so than the first time.

'What are you saying exactly?' she asked cautiously.

'That I would have thought through the consequences more carefully, planned accordingly, and communicated my plans with the team more effectively, but in the end I'd still have done what I did back in Junktown. My question to you is: do you trust me enough to allow me to make those decisions?'

Natalia didn't answer at first. Memories of losing Stone in the lair of the Deathclaw came flooding back. Although she had steeled herself, she still had to blink away the impending tears. So far, both Albert and herself had had to make tough decisions. His were the only ones that hadn't actually gotten anyone killed. She looked up again, directly into his eyes and said, 'Yes.'

Albert nodded. 'Thank you,' he said. Her trust meant more to him than anyone else in the team, even Theresa's, he realized.

'Does Theresa know?' Natalia asked, meaning his resoluteness about the decisions he had and would make in the future.

'We've stopped talking about that,' said Albert.

'Isn't that going to become a problem if the two of you can't come to an agreement about how to lead the team?'

'That won't be an issue,' said Albert. 'Ian told me about the plan to send water back to the Vault. It's a good plan and we should stick with it unless we get a lead on a water chip soon. And when we save up enough to send the caravan off, Theresa will be going back with it.'

Natalia's eyes widened a little. 'You're sending her back?' she asked, surprised.

'Without constant medical monitoring and better technology, she's going to take weeks to be fit for regular travel. We don't _have _weeks.'

'But isn't that why you requested more people when we were back in the Vault?'

'I know. But Stone's gone now. And Alex and Theresa have only been out here for two weeks. Neither one of them has actually been in a gunfight. That means that if we have to leave someone behind to watch over Theresa, it'll have to be either you or me. Ian and Tycho don't answer to us. And you and I _need _each other if we're going to find that chip, at least until Alex has gotten more experience.'

Natalia was finding it hard to argue with Albert. She didn't agree with his decision to send Theresa back, but at the same time realized that part of the reason why Albert had made that choice was because Stone was no longer around to help out. And _that _was Natalia's fault.

'Does she know?' Natalia finally said, resigned to Albert's decision.

'Not yet.'

'Is that the _real _reason you're sending her back?'

Albert paused before declaring, 'Yes.' At least it sounded convincing.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, the group had gathered to discuss their options. While it was an unspoken understanding that the decision to track down the Deathclaw had been fruitful but tragic and therefore misguided, the underlying reason was understandable. Albert made it public knowledge that he supported the plan to hire the services of the Water Merchants. Theresa concurred. That was enough for the rest.<p>

The next problem, then, was getting those 3000 caps. If Butch was satisfied with the information they had found on the missing caravans, that was 500 caps. If they sold Stone's shotgun, they would make, Ian estimated, another 300 to 400 caps. Tycho was willing to fork out 100 of his own. So that was still only 1000 caps tops. Ian said they could take out a loan from the Friendly Lending Company for 200 caps but didn't recommend it unless absolutely necessary. The Lending Company, he said, was not as 'friendly' as they made themselves out to be.

That left two other options: caravan guarding or the job on Hightower. Now that the team was back together again, the former seemed more plausible than it had been earlier. The problem was that the only routes that paid were those that would require days of travel _each way_. In addition, Ian informed them that, unless the scheduling had changed, the earliest caravan opening available was in five days time on the 15th.

As for the other option, Albert didn't like the idea of stealing from Hightower, mainly for practical reasons. Stealing from someone who was in charge of the merchant group from whom they were planning to buy water just seemed like a bad idea, particularly if they got caught.

It seemed, then, that at least for five days until the next caravan left, they were reduced back to menial jobs to keep themselves fed. Agreeing to meet every night at 9pm to discuss any potential new leads, either with regard to the water chip or job opportunities, the group dispersed and settled in for the night.

The next morning, Tycho took the first shift watching over Theresa who was still not recovered enough to take part in the work. Ian took it upon himself to fill Albert in on the nitty gritty details about the Hub, so the two left together with Dogmeat in tow. They would head on down to look for Harold to get more information on the mutants, and then walk over to the Far Go Traders office to collect their payment; it would give Ian plenty of opportunities to fill Albert in. Natalia and Alex, in the meantime, went back to the farm jobs.

* * *

><p>Ian and Albert found Harold without too much difficulty. Uncle Slappy was still wandering around in circles and the old ghoul hadn't left from the room Ian, Natalia, and Stone had found him in two days ago. Albert had half expected Dogmeat to have some kind of reaction to the ghoul's appearance; Albert himself had had to put in a great deal of effort to suppress an instinctive urge to gawk. Fortunately, both man and dog kept their composure. Ian explained the situation to Harold and asked for more about the mutants he had mentioned.<p>

'That takes a bit of explaining,' said Harold. 'It's part of the reason why I look like a human cancer right now.'

'This was a recent change?' said Albert.

'Sure wasn't _born _this ugly,' said Harold. 'It's a long story, though. Goes all the way back to when my vault opened and then some.'

'Do we have to go _that_ far back?' asked Ian.

'I like telling it my way,' Harold said simply. 'Short version will cost you twenty-five extra, friend.'

Albert didn't need convincing. Just the word 'vault' had been enough to pique his interest. 'Give us the whole thing,' he said.

'All started with the sirens,' Harold began, taking a seat on the old armchair in the derelict house.

'Wait, a minute. That was _during _the Great War,' said Albert. That was 2077! Eighty-five years ago! That must make you…'

'About a century or two in dog years,' Harold half-joked.

'You still remember what happened all the way back then?' Albert asked, surprised.

'My memory ain't what it used to be,' Harold admitted, 'but, ohh, do I remember _that_. Lotta terrible years followed. But when it was all over, I remember walking outta the Vault late one morning.'

'Where… _was _your Vault?' Albert asked hopefully.

'Y'know,' Harold said, giving one of his unhealthy sounding coughs, 'I'm not real sure anymore. West, I think… Uh wait… east? Ooh, I don't know.' He broke into another hacking cough that lasted longer than the previous one. 'I _do _remember that my vault was one of the first to open.' He paused to remember the events all those years ago. 'Whew, _long _time,' he said, sighing nostalgically.

'How did you survive those early years?' asked Ian, trying to imagine a Wasteland where defended settlements like the Hub and Junktown had not yet been constructed.

'Well, I was a trader,' said Harold. 'Did pretty good making a circuit between survivors. Lost a lotta good people, though.' Another cough.

'How?' said Ian.

'Gangers got 'em,' was the reply. 'Scavengers attacking the caravans. And _mutants_, son of a dog, if they weren't springing up like rabbits with a mission.' Another cough. 'Had to have an army of guards with, just to do a deal.'

'You're talking about mutants like the kind we saw in the Deathclaw's lair,' said Ian, looking for verification.

'Wellll,' said Harold, 'the description fits, though the mutants I faced were uncoordinated. Sure never heard of them ever planning to _kidnap _people.'

'I can imagine what even a squad of those things might be like,' Ian said. 'How on earth did you survive?'

'Didn't. Got killed,' Harold said simply, shortly before bursting out into a laughing wheeze. '_Love _that joke!' he said. No one else laughed. He took a breath to settle down.

'Where were they coming from?' Albert asked.

'Everywhere!' Harold exclaimed. 'Hell, seemed like you couldn't fart without hitting one… But mostly in the northwest. Anyway, we mounted an expedition. Needed to see what was there. Maybe stop whatever was churnin' them boogers out.' Harold paused, recalling the old memory. 'God,' he sighed nostalgically. 'Richard. Richard Grey. Led a small group of us up there.'

'Who was he?' asked Albert.

'A doctor,' Harold explained. 'Little older than me, and, friend, was he smart. He _found the source_. Some sort of old military base… We thought we were prepared… We were wrong. Lost a _lotta _folks getting in there.'

'Where, exactly?' Albert pushed.

'I can't remember the route or anything,' said Harold. 'Not anymore. But I'm damn sure it was northwest, though.'

'How did you know this base was the cause?' Ian asked.

'Because it was like someone went bargain shopping at mutantland! Geez! Cheaper by the dozens! Can't figure any _other _reason except that being the factory.'

'What did you find?' asked Albert.

'Robots and such. Lot of 'em. Damn surprised they was still running after all this time, what with the war and all. Whooa boy they tore us a good one. Still, we got pretty far inside. Wasn't a lot of us left by then. Grey, me, and a couple of others.' Harold stopped to take a few deep breaths interspersed with the sporadic cough. It was clear that all the talking was tiring him out. He took another deep breath before continuing. 'One of them robots got Francine. Mark was wounded. Sent him back to the surface. Then it was just me and Grey.'

'Did you ever meet up with Mark again,' asked Albert, wondering if there was another source of information they could go to.

'To this day, I don't know what happened to him,' said Harold. 'He never made it back here, and... well, I couldn't face the wasteland again, so I… I never looked… but as for me and Grey, well, we made it to some sort of central core, like a plant of some sort. That's when it happened. A robot crane crashed into us. Last I saw of Grey, he was flying through the air in… into some sort of acid bath. I was in bad shape and… well I passed out.'

'How did you survive?' asked Albert.

'Didn't. Got killed!' Harold burst into another long laugh that lasted long enough that it got taken over by a fit of unhealthy coughing. 'God, I love that joke!' he said, actually in tears this time.

'Yeah, I can tell,' Ian commented, unimpressed.

'Well, I have no idea, really,' Harold said, regaining control of himself. 'Woke up in the wasteland, barely hanging on. Got lucky and some traders I knew found me days later. Good thing, since I was already changing. They brought me here, and here I've been since.'

'Your mutation was _recent_?' said Albert in surprise. '_How_?'

'All's I know,' said Harold, 'is it was something inside that base.'

'Radiation?' Alberted offered.

'How the hell should I know?' said Harold in an unexpected burst of irritation, although Albert suspected it was more because of the reliving of the memory than anything else. 'Grey would've known if anybody could,' Harold said. Then he sighed heavily. 'Anyway, that's how the deal went down.' They were all lost in thought for a few moments until Harold looked up at them, trying to piece together their reasons for having asked him about the mutants. 'Wait, you're not… thinking of going _up _against them, are you?'

'If we do,' we'll make sure you're the first to know,' Albert joked as the two men got up to leave.

Ian shook his head. 'Butch, over at the Far Go Traders, needs to know about what's been happening to the caravans. Hopefully he'll bring it up with the City Council and get something done about the problem.'

'Well, hope _that _works out,' Harold mused. 'You keep this in mind, though. If we were to have a war between the Hub and the mutants, and if the numbers were equally balanced, you can bet your ass we'd lose. Sheriff Greene and his men may be well-armed but they'll have to do a lot better than that to go up against them mutants, 'specially if they're as coordinated as you say.'

'Thanks for the story,' said Albert as they prepared to leave.

'Well, thanks for letting me tell it,' the old mutant replied.

* * *

><p>'What do you have?' said Butch when Albert and Ian finally reached his office.<p>

'We found out who's been taking the caravans,' said Ian.

'Really? Who?' Butch was suddenly all ears, his usual irritability gone.

'Rats,' Ian said completely straight-faced, much to Albert's amusement. '_Big _rats with _big _teeth.'

'Rats? You've gotta be kidding me,' said Butch in what might have been disbelief if not for the seriousness of his tone.

'He is,' Albert reassured the owner of the Far Go Traders.

'Well then, what is it?' Butch pressed, completely oblivious to the joke Ian had just played, completely at his expense.

'It's these big mutants guys,' said Ian.

'Wha—? What would mutants want with our caravans?' Butch said with the same tone he had used about the rats.

'We don't know,' Ian admitted, 'but they seem to be taking the caravan personnel prisoner.'

'What, do I look like a crate shy of a load?' Butch said, surprising both men that he was skeptical about _this _claim but not about the rats. 'Did you even _see _the Deathclaw?'

'So you believe in it after all,' Ian observed.

'I—' Butch began, realizing he had just ratted himself out.

'Relax,' said Ian, fishing in his drawstring sack, pulling out a large object from within, and tossing it onto Butch's desk. Butch gave a start and did a small jump backwards at the sight of the severed Deathclaw hand, its talons still sharp enough to leave scratch marks on his desk. It took a second, but Butch managed to recover from his initial surprise and approached the severed hand, wonder in his eyes.

'You… you killed it?' he said in awe. 'Well… I, uh… um…'

'We were talking about the mutants,' said Albert to help out the flustered merchant.

'I… uh… yes,' said Butch. 'Mutants. Where, uh, did these mutants come from? And what would the mutants in Old Town want with our caravans?... Unless it's some kind of conspiracy…'

'These aren't the Old Town ghouls,' Ian clarified. 'These ones are much bigger, and we think they have an outpost of some sorts to the northwest.'

'An _outpost_?' Butch said, growing noticeably more agitated by the second. 'Well… um… well, uh, I'll have to talk to the Committee. Yeah… yeah, they'll know what to do.' Butch frowned to himself and reached for notepad and pen to write down what he planned to tell the City Council. He was desperately trying to look more in control of the situation than he clearly felt. 'Done and done,' he said, waving them off. 'Get out, 'cause I got stuff to do, okay?'

With the official endorsement given by Butch, Albert and Ian approached Rutger outside the office for their payment. He was more difficult to convince.

'Mutants destroyed our caravans?' he said. 'That's almost as good as the one about the Deathclaw.'

'Both of which are true,' said Ian. 'You'll find proof of the Deathclaw on Butch's desk. As for the mutants…' Ian produced the holodisk the dying mutant had given him and handed it over to Rutger.

'Good thing I know how to use one of those,' Rutger said taking the disc. 'Butch got some gizmo from some scout from the Brotherhood a long time ago that can read these things.' He fished out what looked like a bulkier, less portable, version of the PIPBoy, inserted the holodisk, and listened quietly as the mutants' radio transmissions filled the silence of the room. By the end, Rutger was looking less smug. 'Sorry I didn't believe you,' he said, frowning at the implications of the information. 'Do you know anything about this Lieutenant or Master?'

Ian shook his head. 'We _do _know it means they're organized,' he said.

Rutger nodded. 'This does not bode well for the good guys,' he mused, staring off into space. Then he shook his head to clear it. 'But it's something concrete, at last,' he said to them. He headed over to a safe in the wall, opened it, and tossed them a two-pound bag of caps. 'There's your 500 Hubbucks.' He seemed to give it a little more though, then reached in the safe and produced three smaller pouches. 'Hell, make it 800,' he said, 'and thanks for the information! We've been waiting months for a solid answer. If you and your friends ever need anymore work, you just let me know. I'll make sure you get priority on the caravan jobs.'

The two men and Dogmeat left the Far Go Traders feelings pretty good about themselves. Not only had they received a sixty-percent bonus, but they had also secured for themselves an additional source of income should they need it.

'Come on, I think this warrants a little celebration,' said Ian as they emerged from the Far Go Traders' offices into the warm sunshine.

'I don't know,' Albert said reluctantly. 'We should probably try to conserve as much as we can until that caravan is underway.'

'Don't worry about it,' said Ian, waving off Albert's concerns. 'I've still got some caps left – enough to get us both an iguana-on-a-stick.' With that, Ian led the way down the road till they arrived at a stall by the roadside. A couple of roasted iguanas hung from hooks on overhead racks. In another old display case lay multiple skewers of meat and vegetables. A plastic container stood nearby presumably holding more food supplies. The two men walked around till they were facing the stall from the front. Albert took a step back to take a look at the sign at the base of the stall. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the words: "Bob's Iguana Bits." Memories of Doc Morbid's basement came flooding back. He took another look at the skewered pieces of meat, suddenly seeing in them in a new light.

He grabbed hold of Ian's hand as Ian reached out to make an order. Ian looked confused. Albert considered pulling Ian aside and telling him what he had found in Junktown. Then another idea hit him. At first, it was so outlandish that he rejected it immediately. But then he gave himself pause. What would he be willing to do to get Vault-13 the water it needed? Could he compromise his beliefs yet again for the greater good?

Albert exhaled audibly. His friends back in the Vault needed that water. His parents needed that water. The entire population of the Vault needed that water. He didn't like the compromise he would have to make, but he realized he was going to do it anyway. Yes. For the sake of his Vault, he would lie, cheat, and blackmail.

Albert stepped up to the stall and stared the stall owner in the eye.

'Hi! Welcome to Bob's Iguana Bits, the family eating place,' said the owner cheerfully. Albert bit his tongue at how the owner, presumably Bob, had just described his establishment. 'Can I take your order?' said Bob.

'I think we need to talk about Doc Morbid and some of your secret ingredients,' said Albert. Ian still looked confused. Bob looked just as confused, but Albert saw through the ruse.

'What are you talking about?' Bob said indignantly.

'Your secret ingredients,' Albert repeated. 'How fresh does the corpse have to be before it develops a bitter aftertaste? Do you use mutants, humans, or a mix? What—'

'Not so loud!' Bob hissed. 'I don't need you saying that all over the Hub.'

'I can get even louder,' Albert pushed. 'But I can also shut up. Noise is cheap, silence is expensive.'

'Wh—you're _blackmailing _me?' Bob said in disbelief.

Albert made a big show of looking down the road to where the headquarters for the city's law enforcement was located. 'Y'know, now that I think about it,' he said, 'the sheriff's office isn't all that far from here. I really should take a walk down—'

'No! Wait!' Bob said urgently. Albert turned back to the stall owner. Bob sighed. 'Fine,' he said, flustered, 'what do you want me to pay?'

Albert looked at the stall, the "iguana" kebabs, and the more authentic roasted iguanas hanging from the hooks. He did a quick calculation in his head.

'I want eight hundred Hubbucks.'

'Eight hundred?' Bob repeated in shock. 'I don't have that kind of money! And even if I did, if I gave you that much, I'd be out of business! Or I'd have to take out a loan, which would be just as bad.'

'Should've thought about that before you started dealing in human corpses,' Albert said in disgust. At the same time, he realized that it would do the Vault no good if Bob went to jail. 'Alright. I'll let it slip to two hundred, but _every week_.' Bob both relieved and worried at the same time. He couldn't tell if this new offer was better or worse than the previous one. 'Relax,' said Albert. 'I'm not always going to be around. In two or three weeks time, you may never see me again.'

'Fine,' Bob said finally.

'Starting now,' Albert said when Bob made no move.

Reluctantly, Bog dug around behind his stall, counting caps until he finally came up with a bag of two hundred caps.

'And add three iguanas-on-sticks to that order,' Albert added, taking the bag. 'And make sure they're the _real _ones.'

Bob sulkily reached for the whole roasted iguanas hanging from the hooks and handed them begrudgingly to Albert. Albert tossed one to Dogmeat who caught it in his mouth. He took one for himself and handed the last to Ian. With that, they left Bob's stand behind them, ignoring the angry stares from the store's proprietor.

Albert didn't feel particularly good about having blackmailed Bob, but they were now a third of their way to their goal of 3000 caps, and he at least felt justified on pragmatic grounds. He could live with that. Now all they had to do was sell Stone's shotgun and they'd be done for the day.

They were halfway to Beth's "Armory" when Albert noticed another store by the side of the road. They had walked right past it the first time on the way to the Far Go Traders' offices; it was nondescript and had a single chalkboard attached as its sign. Written in chalk were the words "Library". He took one last bite of his iguana, and tossed it down to Dogmeat who had already finished his first. 'Wait here a moment,' Albert told Ian and Dogmeat. Dogmeat had gotten phenomenally good at recognizing Albert's commands and stayed by Ian's side as Albert entered the library.

Inside, Albert was amazed to find the place lined with shelves of books – not anywhere as stacked as vids he'd seen of actual vintage pre-War bookstores, but it was still pretty darned impressive given the state of human civilization. The "librarian" stood at her desk reading what looked to be some kind of romance novel. Albert felt as if he had stepped through some sort of time portal to a century before the War.

The librarian looked up at him and smiled, putting down her book.

'Hi, welcome to the Library,' she said. 'What might you be looking for in the way of knowledge?'

Albert gazed around at the shelves, wondering if his guess was too farfetched.

'I'm looking for a water purification chip, actually,' he said. 'I was hoping this place might have information about Vault-Tec equipment.'

'Well,' said the librarian, 'in my studies, I _have _come across some references to such things.' She gave a thoughtful frown and started digging around in some of the drawers in her long librarian's desk. 'Actually,' she said as she searched, 'I _have_…' she grinned as she found what she was looking for, 'a holodisk that contains some information you might find useful.' She took out a holodisk that looked identical in size and shape to the one Ian had received from the mutant in the Deathclaw's cave.

'May I borrow it?' Albert asked.

'Well…' the librarian started, 'we don't actually… _rent _things here.'

'It's a library, isn't it?' Albert asked, confused.

'It is,' she affirmed, 'but… well, the borrowing system of the pre-War days doesn't work anymore. People don't seem to understand or care that if they check something out, they still have to return it.'

'You want to sell me the holodisk…' Albert said, realizing her pitch.

'I could, if you have the caps,' she said. 'Information is hard to come by in this day and age. I'll need to charge you 750 Hubbucks for the disk.'

Albert caught himself before his face betrayed his surprise. That just wouldn't do. He didn't even know if whatever was on the disk was worth it. He told the librarian as much.

'Well, you're right,' she said. 'I _don't _know if it says anything about water chips. But I _can_ tell you that it tells the locations of vaults in the former Western USA region. As far as my sources have indicated, those seem to be the only places that _use _water purification chips.'

'Where's this holodisk from?' asked Albert. 'I need to know if it's reliable.'

'It's the official promotional United States Vault Pamphlet for the West Coast,' the librarian said simply. 'I don't know how much more reliable you can get than that.'

Albert thought the issue over. If the librarian was right, they would finally know for sure of any other vaults in the area besides 13 and 15. Even if, in the worst case scenario, there turned out to be no other vaults, at least they could then focus their efforts away from hunting fruitlessly for vaults and perhaps turning to the possibility of searching for Vault-Tec factories instead. But 750 caps? That would put a serious dent on their contributions to the water caravan plan. It was not as if mere knowledge of another vault would guarantee the discovery of a water chip. If Vault-15 was any precedent, there was always the possibility of failure even then; the water caravan was the surest way of making sure Vault-13 survived while they carried on their search.

At the same time… The team had only expected Albert and Ian to return with 500 caps from the Deathclaw job. Now they had 1000. Albert did another quick mental survey of the options before coming to a decision. He wished he could go back and discuss this new option with the team but he knew how entrepreneurial people could be. This librarian knew she had the upper hand and it was already clear she was more than ready to exploit that advantage. Who knew what would happen if he gave her the time to concoct a plan to maximize her profits. If he came back the day after, she could easily double the price, knowing that he needed the disk. No, he had to make the decision there and then.

'Here's how it is,' he said. 'I don't know if that holodisk has what I need, and I also don't know if the people I work for even _want _the information that's on that disk. If I buy that disk from you, I'm taking a risk. I could play it safe, go back, check with my boss, and then find out whether this is something he needs or not, but then, if the answer is no, you may have just lost an opportunity. _Or_, I can buy it right now, spare you that potential loss, and take that risk. But if I'm gonna do that, you're gonna need to help me out.'

'What do you mean?' the librarian asked uncertainly.

'Well, let's make a deal here. If you can drop the price to 400 Hubbucks, I'll take that disk off your hands.'

'400?' the librarian scoffed. 'I can't give you _that _much of a discount. Weren't you listening to anything I said? I can do 700, but that's it.'

'I happen to know,' said Albert confidently, 'that no one else is going to want that holodisk. I _know_ what a water chip is for and that means I know it's so specialized that no one except my boss is going to want it. If I leave now, you'll never sell that disk. Do you _really _want to pass up this opportunity?'

The librarian chewed her lip. 'Fine, 600,' she said.

'That might have been a better price if it was brand new,' said Albert. 'But look at the edges and the wrapping. It's already been opened and used multiple times. That looks like a worn holodisk if I've ever seen one. I'll give you 500 for it, but that's as far as I'll go. I've got my job to look out for, after all.'

The librarian picked up the holodisk and looked it over. 'You're right,' she sighed. 'The disk _has _seen better days. Alright. 500 it is.'

Albert fished out the caps and laid them on the librarian's desk. As she reached out to take the caps, he put his hand on them. 'If the disk doesn't work…' he warned.

'It'll work,' she said quickly, eager to get her hands on the caps.

The warning given, Albert took the holodisk, and inserted it into his PIPBoy. Fortunately for both of them, the disk did indeed work and, sure enough, the colorful imagery of a subterranean vault sprung into view.

Albert's heart leaped in his chest when he flipped through the first few electronic pages and found, located just above the description for Vault-13, information on a Vault-12. Albert zoomed in on the text and read the introductory blurb.

**Under the sprawling metropolis of Bakersfield, lies the technological magnificence of Vault-12. Built with every amenity in mind for the prospective Vault Dweller, Vault-12 was given the "Pressed Vault Suit" award for attention to preparedness. Buried far underground, the protection that Vault Dwellers will receive will be unprecedented. Much like all other Vaults, Vault-12 has been fitted with the newest in Vault Water Purification Systems. Able to take even the waste located in the sewers of Bakersfield, this system is able to deliver over 15,000 gallons of pure, refreshing drinking water every day.**

This proved it! Not only was there another vault on the west coast, but it was also clearly equipped with the same kind of water purification equipment that Vault-13 used. Albert scanned through the rest of the document but it seemed like the number of vaults stopped at three. Vault-13 and Vault-15 were the other two. Albert had no idea why Vault-14 wasn't included – perhaps it had been a failed project – but his brief disappointment couldn't dampen his excitement at the news about Vault-12. Bakersfield, it had said. The name sounded familiar.

Albert abruptly experienced a second jolt. Only this time, it wasn't out of excitement. He suddenly remembered where he had heard about Bakersfield before. Bakersfield was no longer Bakersfield. Residents of the post-nuclear world now called it "Necropolis"…

* * *

><p>That evening, Albert shared the news with the rest of the team. They were all shock by the price of the holodisk but none challenged the payoff of his investment. The only thing left, then, was to reevaluate their plans. Theresa clearly wasn't in any state to travel on foot yet, not for long distances, at least. That meant that either they would have to split into two groups again or wait on Theresa's recovery. But now that they knew there was another vault hidden below Bakersfield, the notion of waiting became difficult, to say the least. The knowledge of Vault-12's existence made every moment wasted seem like a moment in which the water chip, if indeed it was located there, might somehow get lost, taken, or damaged. And on top of all of that was the original plan to send water back to Vault-13. All the vault dwellers still agreed that, since they didn't know for sure if Vault-12 had a chip, the safest bet would be to get that water caravan on its way. But, even with the sale of Stone's shotgun, they were still just over 2000 caps short.<p>

Ian shared with the group that back in his caravan days, he had done a few jobs for the Crimson Caravan. The Crimson Caravan was well known for running the most dangerous trade routes compared with any other group, but its penchant for high-risk jobs also meant that one of its routes took it to Necropolis and beyond. The job paid well – 400 caps _each _way _per _person. All they needed were three people to go there and back and they'd be all set to finance the water caravans.

Unfortunately, the workability of that plan all depended on whether they could actually get openings. In order to get preferential choice for the positions, one needed to build a reputation for being a competent and reliable guard, and Ian was the only one with a track record. The other little hiccup was that the next caravan to Necropolis ran on the 17th – six days from the date. On the one hand, it meant that Theresa would have more time to recuperate. On the other, six days still wouldn't be enough for her condition and, in the meantime, it would mean they would all have to continue doing farm work.

Two other problems yet remained. One was that they knew next to nothing about Necropolis. No one had any idea where to start looking over the entire 144 square miles of mostly-urban landscape. Ian himself had done the caravan guard job once but, even then, had never actually entered the city. Trading was done with a couple of non-crazed ghouls who lived in the remnants of a hotel along the outskirts.

Related to that problem was the issue of time. No one knew how long it would even take to find the vault. If they took two weeks to find Vault-12, then that was two weeks of supplies Vault-13 would no longer have. The delay wouldn't really matter as much if they succeeded in their quest, but there was no certainty of that. Just the thought of the growing panic that the residents of Vault-13 would undoubtedly experience (if they weren't already) was worrying.

In the end, the limited range of choices decided it for them. The Necropolis route was the earliest caravan to head out of the Hub so it was their best bet if they didn't want to waste time. Theresa would stay behind with one of them and the rest would try to get guard positions at the Crimson Caravan. It would mean being short of one extra gun but it couldn't be helped.

The caravan, Ian told them, would arrive at Necropolis, trade goods, and then head further north to the Brotherhood of Steel for more trading before returning by the same route. For them, once they reached Necropolis, they'd stop there and search for as long as they could until the caravan returned from the Brotherhood. By Ian's estimation, that would give them about three days. Once the caravan returned, they'd join it back to the Hub with or without the chip. If all went well, that would net them 3200 caps for the trip to and from Necropolis for four of them.

With their plan set, Albert dismissed the group. Gradually, they settled into their respective rooms until finally, after two hours, Albert was left alone in the living room. Tycho had decided to open up his bedroll in the living room instead of have to share a room with anyone, but his deep breathing told Albert he was fast asleep.

Deciding on a change of scenery, Albert got up from his seat at the kitchen table where he had been cleaning his gun and walked out of the house to catch a breath of fresh air.

It was good to have something on the horizon to look forward to again. Back in Junktown with Theresa and Tycho, he hadn't been sure what the future held once they arrived at the Hub. Now they had a destination, a plan, and a schedule.

That wasn't the reason for his need for fresh air, though. Albert knew he was going to have to make hard decisions. The recent events – first hiring the Skulz to do his dirty work, then letting Doc Morbid go for the sake of Junktown's residents, then blackmailing Iguana Bob – all proved the point. And he was willing to make those decisions. That wasn't the problem. He would fraternize with criminals and play their underhanded kind of games whether that meant hiring their services or blackmailing that. If that was what it took to get the job done, he would do it. Only one thing stood in his way. Theresa. And that was partly his fault, he realized. He had allowed an emotional connection to be built between the two of them. Partly out of concern for his own safety, Theresa would try to stop him from making any decision that she felt put him at too much risk. And when she did, it would be difficult to argue with her after what he had inadvertently put her through in Junktown. As the _de facto_ leader of the team, Albert needed to make the tough decisions. But he couldn't do that with Theresa around. The albatross around his neck was too heavy. And so she had to go.

Albert sighed tiredly to himself.

'Albert?' he heard Theresa call from behind him. He jumped at the sudden intrusion to his thoughts. He turned to face her.

'What is it?' he asked at the look of consternation on her face.

'Have you seen Natalia?' she asked. 'She's been gone for at least a half-hour.'

'She's probably just gone for a wa—' Albert froze in midsentence. 'Are her things still in the room?' he asked, suddenly a lot more anxious.

'I didn't look…' Theresa said, a little confused.

Albert strode back into the house with Theresa following behind. He walked into the room the two women were sharing and began rummaging through the drawers and cupboards.

'What are you looking for?' asked Theresa.

'Her armor's here but her gun and utility belt are gone,' he said.

'Where would she have—' Theresa started but Albert was already moving back out to Ian's room. 'Stay here with Alex and Dogmeat,' he told Theresa as he knocked loudly on Ian's door. At the noise, Tycho, who had decided to sleep in the main living room, got up from the old couch.

'What's going on?' he asked.

'I need you and Ian to follow me,' Albert replied as Ian opened his room door. 'Natalia's gone after Hightower.'

* * *

><p>The three men stood in the alleyway that opened out onto the Heights – the upper class part of town. Not far away stood Hightower mansion. Only a few of the lights in the building were on (probably powered by the same source that ran the streetlights). A single guard passed down the road on his patrol.<p>

Albert cursed silently at himself for not having recognized the signs. Back in the Vault, if one of his marriage counseling "clients" had seemed cold and distant despite having experienced serious emotional anguish, it would surely have set of alarm bells in his head. Why hadn't he realized it with Natalia? Instead he had just assumed she had somehow mentally processed Stone's death and moved on. He had allowed himself to become distracted by all his own personal problems that he hadn't seen it coming. It was clear as day now. Natalia hadn't resolved Stone's death on her own. Rather, she had been steeling herself to prove her worth, to the group but, probably more importantly, to herself.

'There'll be six to eight guards,' said Ian. 'If we place ourselves strategically, and take out this one guard first, we might be able to pick off the rest as they arrive.'

'What?' Tycho said in shock. 'We're not gonna _kill_ guards legitimately protecting a citizen of the Hub!'

'You shouldn't have brought him along,' said Ian to Albert before turning to Tycho. 'We _need _to create a distraction for Natalia. If we can draw their attention and their fire, she might be able to get that necklace and get out.'

'Or we could ruin whatever chances she might have of making it out unseen!' Tycho protested.

As if in response, a gunshot rang out in the house. There were sounds of commotion coming from inside, followed by more gunshots. Lights all over the house exploded into life.

'Shit!' Albert swore. 'I'm going in,' he declared, and raced across the road to the nearest window on the ground floor. Ian and Tycho followed swiftly behind. The guard who had been patrolling this street had run over to the entrance on the other side of the building, leaving the way clear. Albert was about to smash the glass window when another window on the second floor flew open. Albert aimed his pistol at the frame. A moment later, a figure swung nimbly out and dropped to the ground. All of the three men's weapons were raised.

'Guns down!' he commanded as he recognized the figure. It was Natalia. She had left her leather armor back in the house and was dressed only in her old dark blue vault jumpsuit.

'Albert?' she whispered loudly in surprise. 'What are _you_ doing here? What are you _all _doing here?'

'Saving your ass!' he yelled back, partly in anger.

'Shhhh!' she berated.

'We need to get out of here,' Tycho interjected.

'They're not after me,' she explained quickly, much to everyone else's surprise.

'Then who—' Albert started.

'I'll tell you later,' said Natalia, leading the way back across the street. More gunshots were head from inside. Then silence.

When they were at a safe distance, they ducked into an empty house.

'What the hell were you thinking?' said Albert angrily. 'We already _decided_ on a plan! You could've gotten yourself killed _and _ruined whatever chances we have of hiring the water caravan!'

'I knew what I was doing once I saw the place,' said Natalia calmly as she removed some bandages from her utility belt to mop up the blood from what everyone suddenly noticed was large ugly gash in her right hand.

'Then how do you explain that?' said Albert as he helped her with the disinfectant and bandaging.

'That was the safe,' she explained. 'I got careless. Some stupid spring-loaded trap wired into the door. Would've chopped my hand off if I'd been any slower.'

Albert's tone softened a little. 'Look, I know why you did what you did,' he said. He sighed. 'And I know I don't have any right to give you a hard time, not after what I did in Junktown. It's just…'

'You're being a good leader. You're looking out for us,' Natalia stated gently. 'I know. But after what happened to Stone… I needed to do this. For me.' Then she added with a smile, 'But you're right. You _don't _have any right to give me a hard time.'

'Who were the guards shooting at?' asked Tycho quickly in an attempt to avoid the awkward silence he could sense was about to set in.

'Some fool broke into the mansion at about the same time I did,' said Natalia. 'Gave me the perfect distraction for my getaway.'

'Was he after the same thing?' asked Ian.

'Thankfully not,' said Natalia. 'I think he was the one who fired the first shot.'

'An assassin?' Ian said in amazement. 'After Hightower, I presume.'

'I suppose,' Natalia replied. 'I was working on his safe when the first gunshot went off, but from the sounds of it, I think Hightower's still alive and kicking.'

'Judging from the current silence, the same can't be said of the assassin,' said Ian. 'Did you get what you were looking for?'

Natalia gave Ian a sly grin. She opened the flap of the largest pouch on her utility belt and produced the most magnificent necklace any one of them had ever seen. Albert had seen plenty of jewelry on the pre-War movie vids back in Vault-13, but these were clearly "heist" quality. Everyone gaped.

'The Thieves' Circle guaranteed me at least 2000 on the job,' she said. 'I think there's a good chance we might've just secured ourselves our own water caravan.'

* * *

><p>On the way to the hideout of the Thieves' Circle, Natalia directed them to an old church along the way, not far from where the Water Merchants were located. When Natalia had accepted the job on Hightower and gone for her briefing, her newfound friends over at the Thieves' Circle had given her the lowdown on the Hub. One of the places they had pointed out was an old church where some weird religious cult who called themselves "the Children of the Cathedral" had set up a small hospital. Despite their reputedly strange religious ideas, they apparently provided free medical attention to those who needed it. No one knew how they could afford their medical equipment or detachment of security guards, nor did anyone know how they were as proficient as they were in medical knowledge or why they were offering medical aid for free. Still, their services were supposedly top notch and there were never any strings attached. For those reasons, Natalia recommended that they pay them a visit to get her hand looked at. Albert had already disinfected the wound, bandaged it up, and administered a stimpak into her bloodstream. But her hand clearly needed stitches if she was going to be able to use it within the next week or two.<p>

The church turned out to be anything but a 'Cathedral', so either the Children of the Cathedral thought more grandly of themselves than initially supposed, or they were merely an offshoot of the original group (wherever they were) who presumably actually _had _a cathedral. This particular old church building was in better condition than most of the houses in Old Town but, like many of the other buildings, was suffering from some deterioration.

They were greeted at the entrance by a grubby, long-haired boy no older than eight or nine, carrying a bunch of beautiful white roses. No one on the team, not even Ian or Tycho, could figure out where the kid had gotten the flowers. In their travels, they had certainly not seen anything like them. Albert recalled the flower he had purchased to give Theresa back in Junktown and suddenly felt slightly ashamed that he had even done so. Next to the white roses, _that _flower had clearly been a weed.

The boy beamed up at them and picked out one of the lilies.

'Would you like a flower, ma'am?' he said cheerfully to Natalia.

Natalia bent down so she was eye level with the boy. 'What's so special about the flower?' she said amicably.

'It's a Unity Rose,' the boy declared enthusiastically. 'It's the color of the Holy Flame, and represents the peace and harmony we'll have when the Children of the Cathedral help everyone in the whole world become friendly and strong!' Realizing he was going beyond his assigned task, he toned down on his enthusiasm. 'Uh, do you want one?' he asked again.

'I'll take one if you tell me about this Holy Flame,' said Natalia after trading a cautious look at her three male companions.

Excited that he could accomplish his assigned task, the boy was only too willing to comply. 'That's the fire that cleansed the world,' he said with total innocence, seemingly oblivious to the implications of his statement. 'And if we obey it,' he continued, 'it'll never do it again! It wants us to be smart and peaceful and unified and stuff! So… you'll take the flower?'

Natalia swallowed, forced a smile, and took the rose from the boy's outstretched hand.

'Thank you, oh thank you!' the kid said effusively. 'I gave away a flower!' he declared to no one in particular. 'Isn't that great?' It was as if he had just won some kind of prize. Having achieved his goal, the boy stepped aside from the doorway, allowing them entry.

'That's pretty fucking creepy,' Ian commented as they entered.

'You can say that again,' said Tycho.

'So they recognize the horror of the War but… worship a weapon of mass destruction?' Ian continued. No one replied; they were all thinking along the same lines.

Inside, the team bore witness to a strange sight. The interior of the old church still looked the same as they imagined it must have looked almost a century ago, if perhaps more rundown. What was strange was how the Children of the Cathedral had reappropriated the structure of the church to suit their function as health service providers. Three rooms were located on the west side of the church, evenly spaced along the length of the wall so it appeared as if they were physician rooms in a clinic. As for the pews, they now functioned as a waiting lounge for the patients. Every now and then, a man in hospital scrubs would come out of the side room furthest from the entrance, walk to the podium and call out a name from a list. One of the patients sitting at the pews would rise and follow the man into the room. After a ten-or-so-minute session, the patient would emerge and, having received his or her consultation, would either leave the church or head through door to the middle room, though those in the second category were far and few. The place also had two armed guards, one at the front of the church near the podium where he had a clear view of the entire space and another guarding the door to the third room. Whatever could be said about the Children of the Cathedral's religion, one certainly couldn't deny their high level of organization. They were _not _amateurs, which meant either that they had a lot of experience under their belt, or they were part of a larger, bureaucratized body. In the chaos of the merchant city and Wasteland in general, this level of discipline and order was unsettling.

A woman in what appeared to be a brown monk's robe complete with a hood approached them with a clipboard and a pen. She gave Natalia's hand a cursory look, got her name and wrote it down, and then returned to the middle room from where she had originally emerged. Ian and Tycho took their leave so they could return to the house and reassure Theresa and Alex that nothing too bad had happened. Neither one seemed particularly keen on staying a minute longer in a place where people venerated nuclear destruction even _if _it was so it could be averted in future.

Albert and Natalia took a seat on one of the pews. As they sat, Natalia noticed, for the first time, the flags hanging from crossbars located at regular intervals high up on the walls. They were a rich red in color and each bore the symbol of what appeared to be a black and yellow trefoil – the same kind used to indicate a radioactive hazard area. Glancing up at the front of the church, Natalia noticed that the same symbol had been engraved on the front of the podium.

'Do you find that… kind of creepy?' she confided in Albert.

'_You _were the one who suggested the place,' said Albert, but it was clear from his expression he felt the same way.

'I know,' she conceded. 'I'm not saying we _shouldn't _be here. It's just… this whole "worshipping the Holy Flame" thing… it's really weird.'

'Wait here,' said Albert. 'I'll see what I can find out.'

Albert got up and, when the lady in the robes reemerged from the middle room, Albert walked up to her.

'What can I help you with?' she said amiably.

'I was wondering if you had a moment to answer a few questions,' said Albert.

'Unless someone new comes in the door,' she replied.

Albert agreed. 'Well, we were directed to this place by a friend but we really know nothing about it. I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about this place and the work you do.'

One of the patients took that moment to groan as if in pain. 'Mercy…' he said seemingly to no one in particular. 'Holy Flame…' he mumbled. Albert cast a nervous glance at the man. 'The woman went over to the man and checked his pulse and temperature before returning to Albert.

'He's having some kind of relapse,' she said. 'He's been here before.'

'What _is _the Children of the Cathedrals' relation to this Holy Flame?' asked Albert.

'Well, It is our guiding light. Our inspiration. The Holy Flame commands that we heal people. It's wisdom is incontrovertible, so we obey.'

'So this church is really just a hospital…'

'This church functions as a place to practice the gift of healing. Yet it is also a place where stray souls may be gathered and put on a productive path.'

'And what path is that?'

'A lifetime of contentment. Fulfillment in the knowledge that you are working to rebuild the planet and make a better place for those that follow. The Children of the Cathedral seek a peaceful resolution of our world's problems.'

'I said something like that to a friend once. He said I was being idealistic. After what I've seen, I'm beginning to think he's right.'

'True,' the woman agreed. 'We are indeed a spiteful, violent, and stupid species, unworthy of the Holy Flame. I have certainly seen with my own eyes the sin and evil you speak of. But that is precisely why we must act with perseverance. Unless we do something drastic, we shall be burned by the Holy Flame again.'

'How does that work? I'm afraid I'm having some difficulty understanding how you can revere something that caused so much destruction – something that's put us in the position we are today…'

'There is no one greater than the Holy Flame,' the woman said, 'and we are His servants. We praise our master, but we also pray for peace and unity. The old world was filled with evil and decadence. The Holy Flame destroyed it. We can either fear the Holy Flame, or worship it and attempt to understand it. The Children have chosen understanding. The Holy Flame is quick to anger, yet it is a righteous anger. It unleashes itself upon the world when the world allows itself to fall so far into sin as to be beyond redemption. We may revere the Holy Flame, but we certainly don't want to see it unleashed again.'

It was beginning to make sense now. These Children of the Cathedral apparently had conceptualized for themselves some kind of wrathful god. Albert could understand that. From what he had read in the Vault historical archives, members of some Judeo-Christian traditions in the pre-War years certainly had entertained such notions about God. On the surface, it sounded bizarre to worship something that had effectively destroyed human civilization as people had known it. Yet Albert could also see why people would need to find some sort of meaning behind such catastrophic destruction. There had to be _some_ reason and meaning for why the Earth was consumed in nuclear fire.

Albert had always been skeptical about religion from the start despite his parents' staunch attitudes towards faith, or maybe because of it. But he could at least understand why these Children of the Cathedral believed what they did. Their beliefs weren't for him, but if they were willing to work towards making the wasteland a better place – peace and unity and all that – he certainly wasn't going to stop them no matter how deluded he thought they were. And if they did it by helping people like they were doing in the church, who was he to complain? At least they weren't selling corpses to cannibal shop owners… to his knowledge. But that was the intellectual side of him speaking. The down-to-earth side of him didn't feel any more comfortable than before.

Another patient came in through the entrance to the church and the woman smiled to Albert and excused herself. 'Blessings of the Holy Flame to you,' she offered before heading over to greet the new entry.

Albert returned to his seat beside Natalia.

'What did you find out?' she asked.

'That they're not _quite _as irrational as we initially thought.'

'So we have nothing to worry about then.'

'Oh, they're still crazy, don't get me wrong. Let's just get that hand of yours fixed and then get the hell out of here.

* * *

><p>The next morning saw them at the offices of the Water Merchants. Natalia's job had turned out far more lucrative than they had hoped. For both proving her skill and for being successfully initiated into the Thieves' Circle, Loxley had given her not only a whopping 3000 cap reward but a high-tech Micromanipulator – essentially a set of locksmith tools designed to bypass electronic locks and security devices. Natalia had been thrilled.<p>

With her monetary bonus, the team ended up barely having to dig into their reserves, and that was only because the woman in charge wanted an extra 300 caps, above the stipulated 3000, to allow Theresa to ride one of the wagons. Ironically enough, though unbeknownst to the Water Merchants, the bulk of the payment was being covered by the sale of an item that had, until the previous night, still belonged to the head of the Water Merchants.

Now as they waited for the wagons to be loaded with 5-gallon bottles filled with water, the vault dwellers were struck by just how much water was being transported. Twelve wagons, each loaded with twenty-four of the large bottles and pulled by a pair of brahma, stood lined up, ready to go. It was the largest caravan any one of them had seen so far. Yet even these twelve wagons only carried enough to supply the Vault's 500 residents for a third of a month. Two more caravans, each with the same number of wagons, would need to go out over the next few weeks.

Another wagon drew alongside the twelve. This one was relatively emptier, reserved for supplies for the guards and the merchant in charge. It was the only one with enough space for Theresa.

Albert helped Theresa aboard.

'Tell me this,' she said as she boarded. 'Why are you sending me back?'

'You _know _why,' said Albert. 'We can't bring you along with us to Necropolis in your state. And if we leave you here, we also lose out on one extra gun. _Plus_, the two of you would have to figure out a way to earn enough to eat. At least in the Vault, you'll have everything you need, _including _proper medical attention.'

'Unless the water runs out.'

'Then you and Pat do what we always planned to do. You get the wheels turning.'

'Alright. I can accept that. Now tell me why you're _really _sending me back?'

'I told you—'

'Albert.' Theresa grabbed hold of his hand, forcing him to look her in the eye. 'There's more to it than that.'

Albert hesitated. 'Y'know, you and I still haven't resolved our differences yet.'

'_That's _what this is about? You're sending me away because I _disagreed _with you?'

'I'm not sending you "away".'

'You _know_ what I mean.'

'The last time I did what I was sure was right, you ended up with a knife in the gut…'

'You're afraid you'll do something that ends up hurting someone else?'

'No,' said Albert, his voice growing numb. 'I'm afraid you won't be able to support me when I have to make decisions like those again. And I won't be able to say no to you a second time…'

Theresa stared at him in disbelief for the longest moment. He wasn't sending her back for her safety. He was sending her back because he was going to make the same kinds of decisions he had made all the while and she would just get in the way of that. Theresa had never before even considered the possibility that her care for someone's safety would be rebuffed in such a fashion. Something had changed in him. This wasn't the same Albert she had known only days before. Even at that point when they had argued over his plan to go after Gizmo with Killian, she could not imagine that he would try to get rid of her because she had opposed him. In between that time and the present, something had happened to change him. She just couldn't figure out what. He hadn't really spoken to her of what he had been doing ever since she had been admitted into the hospital in Junktown.

'What happened to you?' she asked softly. Albert didn't answer. He himself didn't know. 'Albert,' she said. 'If you send me back, whatever we might have had, whatever me might have built together, you and me… it's over. You understand that, don't you? I'm not going to be the one left waiting around in the Vault without ever knowing whether you're still alive or whether you did something stupid and got yourself killed. Is that what you want?'

Albert continued staring at the chain of brahmin-pulled caravans so he wouldn't have to look Theresa in the eye. But when he finally turned back to her, his gaze was resolute.

'Yes,' he said stonily.


	15. Chapter 14: Necropolis

Chapter Fourteen: Necropolis

'This place gives me the creeps,' said Ian.

A gust of wind whistled through the dark and broken city. A stench of death permeated the air. Empty streets, buildings broken down into rubble, and the partial remains of a handful of skyscrapers in the former metro area; that was what their eyes beheld as they took in the sights of the City of the Dead. They had passed many derelict buildings in their travels but never had they seen so many empty buildings altogether at the same time, and certainly not as much destruction. The remains of the few skyscrapers that dotted the central business district gave the best indication that Bakersfield hadn't simply deteriorated from age; this place had actually suffered damage from the bombs, not directly of course, or there would have been nothing left, but certainly enough that many of the streets were now generously obstructed by heaps of rubble. In many buildings, they could see exposed girders through the half-wrecked concrete walls. In many places, the buildup of rubble had gotten so great as to prohibit passage. The sight of the city was both depressing and disturbing at the same time.

'Where is everybody?' Natalia wondered aloud as the team of five plus one dog walked down the potholed road.

'Don't look at me,' said Ian. 'I only know the old hotel where the caravans stop to trade. Never actually explored the rest of this place.'

'Haven't you ever wondered?' asked Alex.

'Not enough to want to find out,' Ian replied.

'I expected to see more ghouls, at least,' said Albert. 'Weren't you telling me this place was named after them?' he asked Tycho.

'That's what I heard,' said Tycho. 'Be glad if it actually turns out to be false. Trust me, you don't want crazed ghouls clawing at you for a taste of your flesh.'

'This is a damned zombie movie waiting to happen,' Alex groaned.

As they followed Ian's directions to the old hotel, their conversations grew shorter and shorter. The oppressive feeling of the silent city beginning to envelop them in its dead concrete embrace was starting to get to them. And the silence was now taking on a threatening tone. Everyone felt as if the slightest noise would suddenly wake up hordes of flesh-hungry ghouls.

When they finally arrived at the hotel, only Ian recognized it. The rest would have walked straight past it, so nondescript was it next to the rest of the crumbling buildings in the area. Ian told them to wait outside while he went in to speak to the ghoul manager within. It wouldn't help for the ghouls within to see five armed people all at once.

As the remaining four plus Dogmeat waited outside, they began to grow restless. Standing out on the street by the hotel made them feel too exposed. It didn't help when Natalia's sharp eyes caught sight of ghoul faces appearing behind a number of the multi-storied hotel's windows.

'It's like a fucking haunted house,' Alex murmured as he joined the rest in glancing anxiously at the disfigured faces appearing at the windows, fixing them with their frightening yellow eyes. Even Dogmeat seemed to grow apprehensive. Natalia was about to suggest going in to check on Ian to make sure he was still alright when the former caravan guard reemerged, much to their relief.

'Well?' Albert asked as he crossed the road to reach them.

'Bad news, good news, and bad news,' said Ian.

'Shit,' more than one person swore.

'The bad news is the night manager doesn't know where the vault is. The good news is he knows someone who does. The bad news is it's located in the metro area.'

'What's so bad about that?' asked Albert.

Ian looked up at the tall buildings that made up downtown. Everyone's eyes followed his gaze. All the buildings were missing huge chunks of concrete from the side that had suffered bomb damage. 'All that rubble had to land somewhere,' said Ian. 'The building we're looking for is smack dab in the middle of it.'

'Well, if the person we're looking for is in there, there must be a way in,' said Natalia.

With the directions given by the hotel manager, Ian led the way in a north-north-west direction. At first, all they faced was the odd abandoned car or fallen lamppost. But as they neared the city center, not only were there more vehicles obstructing their way but the presence of rubble from damaged buildings that lay strewn on the streets increased both in frequency and size. In under an hour, their progress had slowed to a crawl as they found themselves clambering over overturned vehicles, huge chunks of concrete, and broken asphalt just to make it to the next street.

Light was fading by the time they had made it halfway. The deepening shadows made the environment seem even more threatening than before. Their footsteps and the odd piece of debris shaken loose by their passage made uncomfortably loud noises in the discomfortingly silent city.

Alex was just about to make a comment about the impending nightfall when they took a northward turn from their westward-running street and found themselves face-to-face with a towering mountain of debris. It didn't take any of them long to realize that there was no way past this obstruction. Albert and Natalia had a brief flash of déjà vu as they recalled their failure way back at Vault-15 when their path had similarly been blocked off.

'How did… that car get on _top_ of the debris?' Natalia asked, noticing the vehicle stacked at the apex of the pile of rubble.

'That had to have found its way up there _after _the debris settled,' Alex commented.

'Well, it isn't going to make our passage any easier,' Ian said a little impatiently. 'Let's try the next avenue.'

The group headed west past the blocked off road but, at the next turning, they once again found their way obstructed. This time, Natalia pointed out not only the vehicles but other pieces of furniture that had been stacked atop the rubble like a barricade.

'Someone's deliberately walling off the place we're trying to get to,' Tycho observed.

'And that means we're not alone here,' Ian warned.

'Maybe now would be a good time to find a place to hole up for the night,' Alex said nervously, finally voicing his concerns about the failing light.

'Good idea,' Tycho seconded quietly. 'And stay alert. I have a feeling things might get dangerous really fast.'

The group slowly began to back away from the mountain of debris, and, at first, it seemed like their fears had been unfounded. Then Natalia pointed and hissed, 'Look!' Everyone's looked to where she was pointing. High up on the mountain of rubble, they spotted what appeared in the growing gloom to be a mostly-naked humanoid creature scrabbling on its hands and legs. It emerged from a hole in the debris and was slowly making its way down the slope. Everyone froze, hoping it would not see them. It was a ghoul, surely – its greenish skin gave it away – but they didn't know if it was one that would be willing to talk, like the manager at the hotel, or one that just wanted to feast on their corpses.

As the ghoul reached the bottom of the debris, it turned as if to head westward down the street. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the ghoul to amble off. But then the creature paused and raised its head. In the darkness they saw its pale, cloudy, pupil-less eyes scanning the surroundings.

'I don't think it's spotted us yet,' Natalia whispered.

As if in reply, the ghoul turned its head towards them and rose to its feet. It lowered its and bony head, glared at them, and snarled loudly. In response, the group heard the clattering of rubble from the nearby barricade of debris and, to their great dismay, witnessed half a dozen more ghouls emerging through gaps in the wreckage that seemed too small for an average sized human being to fit through but that were perfect for the emaciated frames of the ghouls. It was a horror film come to life.

'Shit, shit, _shit_, _shit_, _shit_!' Alex swore in panic. As they watched, more and more ghouls began emerging, this time from some of the nearby buildings.

'Time to go,' said Albert urgently as the ghouls ambled towards them, the expressions on their faces clearly unfriendly.

'Think they can run?' asked Ian as the group turned and began retracing their steps.

In response to his question, two of the ghouls broke from the growing pack and charged straight towards them, arms flailing crazily, mouths wide open to emit hungry snarls.

'What the _hell_?!' Alex complained.

All of a sudden, one of the ghoul's head exploded in a fountain of blood. Tycho had unslung his double-barreled shotgun and calmly put down the closest running ghoul. The second kept coming. Ian, who had been right at the front of the group, positioned his SMG and waited until the ghoul was almost on top of him before letting loose with a dozen bullets. The ghoul did a little jig from the multiple entry wounds before falling to the ground.

'That may be all the runners they have, but we'd better hightail out of here just to be sure,' said Tycho.

The group broke into a run, leaving behind the growing swarm of flesh-hungry ghouls.

Albert, who had initially taken the rear, was now at the head of the group. He had no clue where to go and so just headed back the way they had come. More snarls filled the air as the last rays of sun slipped out of sight. The ghouls of Necropolis had finally woken and, with the coming of night, the city of the dead had come to life.

Turning down one of the roads, Albert almost ran straight into another ghoul that had just emerged from what had once been a diner. Fortunately, it was one of the slow ghouls. It barely had time to turn its pale eyes to Albert when two .44 hollow-points from Albert's Desert Eagle blew two large holes in its chest. The ghoul went down and Albert leapt over the fallen corpse without slowing his stride. The rest of the group followed suit.

Albert was trying his best to head in a southeast direction and, at first, they seemed to be making good progress. East, then south, then east, then south again. The ghouls were all around now but the group fortunately hadn't encountered any other runners yet.

They made another southward turn and it was then that Albert brought them to a screeching halt. They were right outside a supermarket. Unless they had already been cleared out long ago, supermarkets meant food. And food meant ghouls. As it turned out, this particular supermarket was still stocked both with food _and _ghouls. When they had passed the supermarket earlier, the parking lot had been empty. Now dozens of the zombie-like creatures milled around in the parking lot and there was no way through, especially not if some of them turned out to be runners.

The rest of the vault dwellers' group came to a sudden stop behind Albert, but the noise of all the paraphernalia jangling noisily in their backpacks had already alerted the ghouls. A few turned in their direction, and then, in a domino-effect, every other ghoul head turned to face them.

'Back!' Albert yelled, as he spotted a few runners break from the supermarket crowd.

They turned and headed back north while behind them rose the wails of the ghouls crying their hungry frustrations into the night air. But they hadn't gotten far when they realized that some of the horde they had left behind in the downtown area earlier were still in pursuit and had caught up. Coming to a halt at a junction with ghouls closing in on all sides, it became jarringly clear that they had penned themselves into a corner.

Three running ghouls from the supermarket had reached them by that point. Tycho took out one, Ian another, and Albert finished off the last one. At least they went down easy. But could they take down another four or five dozen?

'They're not very organized,' said Albert. 'Think we can run between them?'

'Not with our belongings,' said Ian. 'We'd have to throw off our packs if we wanted that kind of mobility.'

'Is that even an option?' Alex said.

'He's right,' said Tycho. 'If we lose our belongings and provisions in _this _place, we're done.'

'What then?' Ian argued. 'Make our stand here? If my count is right, we should have, oh, I don't know… how about a _hundred_ crazed ghouls closing in on us from all sides?'

'How about down there?' Natalia piped in all of a sudden.

'Down where?' asked Ian. Everyone looked. Natalia was pointing down at a manhole into the sewer system below.

'Think these ghouls don't know how to use a manhole cover?' Alex asked out loud.

'Hopefully not these ones, at least,' said Tycho.

'What if there's more of them down there?' said Alex.

'Can't be any worse than the situation we're in now,' said Albert. 'Let's do it.'

'Ian, Natalia, and I will cover you,' said Tycho, breaking open the chamber of his double-barreled shotgun and ejecting the used shells before reloading. 'Get that cover open. And do it quickly!'

Albert and Alex got to work on the heavy manhole cover while Natalia, the former merchant guard, and the desert ranger kept watch, shooting the odd ghoul that was ahead of the pack. Dogmeat stood by at the ready, knowing enough not to rush at an army of ghouls and attacking only those that got too close for comfort.

The manhole cover was heavy but surprisingly easy to remove. It was almost as if it had been used regularly and recently. Using the access ladder, Albert went in first. He paused halfway down the opening and gave a worried look at Dogmeat. He needn't have worried. The dog calmly walked over and mounted his shoulders. Whatever he had gone through with his previous owner, Dogmeat certainly seemed to be the most seasoned member of the party, knowing the protocol for every possible difficult situation they could find themselves in.

Dogmeat wasn't a light dog but somehow, perhaps spurred on by the urgency of the situation, Albert found himself able to hold the dog steady on his shoulders with one hand while using his remaining free hand and his feet to navigate down the rungs of the metal ladder into the darkness of the sewer system below.

By the time he hit the ground below, the gunfire up top had gotten more frequent. It seemed too soon for the horde of ghouls to have reached them, so Albert guessed they had encountered even more runners.

Lighting a flare, Albert found himself and Dogmeat in an east-west running sewage tunnel. Thankfully, it was devoid of ghouls, at least for the moment.

'It's clear! Get down here!' he called up the ladder.

Alex went down next, followed by Natalia. Up top, the corpses were building. Tycho had already killed seven ghouls with his shotgun – one with a butt-stroke to the head – and Ian had taken down six with two magazines. That seemed to be all the runners, but the front lines of the rest of the ghoul crowd were now no more than thirty yards away and it was time to get out of there.

Tycho grabbed the outer bars of the ladder and slid easily down into the tunnel below. Ian went next, struggling a little but finally managing to pull the manhole cover back over the opening before descending down the ladder to join the rest.

When they were all gathered together below, the group waited as the first of the ghoul horde reached the manhole. Tycho reloaded his shotgun and aimed it at the entrance. Up above they heard the snarls of ghouls but none seemed to be able to find their fingers around the manhole cover. After a minute, it seemed safe to conclude that those ghouls were too crazed to figure out how to get the cover open. For the time being at least, the vault dwellers and their companions were safe.

'Well, we're here,' said Alex, rubbing his arms from the cold, dank air. 'Now what?' He glanced through the grate that covered a nearby drain. Foul water spilled out and into the mucky canal that ran right down the middle of the tunnel. He caught a glimpse of small red eyes peering back at him through the grating and shuddered. The rat, or whatever it was, scuttled off deeper into the drain.

Ian lit his own flare and held it aloft so he could gaze down the tunnel. 'Well, if these tunnels follow the grid, we may just have found our alternate route.'

'We _could _also just as easily overshoot our target if we can't see where we're going,' Albert pointed out.

'I've got it,' said Natalia confidently, taking Albert's flare and leading the way west, then north. To Albert and the rest, accurately navigating the sewer system was almost as bad as crawling around in the dark, but Natalia had somehow stored their journey up on the surface in her brain somewhere and was now able to trace their steps back to where the barricades of rubble had been. If any of the others were skeptical about her ability to gauge distance and direction, none voiced their concerns. Natalia was confidently leading them on and, in the absence of an alternative, they were only too relieved to follow.

As they walked, Albert marveled at Natalia's giftedness. It seemed that every time something happened to remind him that she was really only eighteen years old, she ended up doing something else to demonstrate just how talented and invaluable to the group she was. Tycho, too, had clearly picked up useful navigation skills during his years as a desert ranger and, every now and then, announced to the rest of the group where he believed they were located relative to the streets above.

The sewers were mostly silent except for the faint gurgle of the small river running past their feet and the sporadic dripping of dirty water falling from above. From the surface, they could still hear the frustrated and hungry moans of ghouls that had woken up for the night to feed on the new, unwelcome guests but had ended up losing their feast.

Their progress was slow, mostly because they didn't want to make any more noise than they had to. Nevertheless, they were making progress and Tycho predicted they would make it to their target in another hour or so.

The rest of his predictions were abruptly cut off by a muffled scream off in the distance. At first, they thought they had been discovered. But it soon became clear that the screams were coming from up top. The group froze, listening intently as the ghouls' snarling became a crescendo.

'It appears we're not the only ones in this godforsaken city,' said Tycho.

One of the cries was abruptly cut off.

'What's going on out there?' Alex asked nervously.

'Should we… do something?' asked Natalia.

'They're probably raiders or scavengers thinking they'd try their luck at looting,' said Ian. 'The ghouls up top probably have little use for most of the crap in this city. Ripe pickings for anyone stupid enough to try and lucky enough to succeed… Poor sods.'

'What if they're _not _raiders or scavengers?' asked Natalia. 'What if they're just people like us?'

'Then let's be glad it's them out there and not us,' said Ian simply. 'If their cries attract more ghouls here, it'll be better for us when we reach our destination.'

'I still don't know how that's supposed to work,' said Alex. 'Presumably, this guy we're supposed to talk…'

'Set,' said Ian, naming their contact person.

'Set…' Alex corrected himself. 'Presumably he's also a ghoul. What's to stop him and the rest of his lackeys from chowing down on our sorry asses?'

'_Presumably_, they're not as crazy as the ones above us right now,' said Ian.

'That doesn't make them friendly,' Tycho added his two pennies worth.

'You got a better idea?' Ian replied irritably.

'Just saying we should be prepared,' Tycho said, raising his hands in peace.

'I'm always prepared,' Ian said, picking up pace to catch up with Natalia and leave Tycho and Alex behind him.

'Wait!' Natalia said suddenly. Everyone froze. Tycho had his shotgun up and ready.

Albert covered the last few paces to Natalia and Ian's position up ahead. He peered over her shoulder and spotted the corpses lying ahead of them. They were ghouls. No surprise there. And, judging by the spears beside them, they had been armed when they were killed. Natalia lowered the flare and examined their bodies while Ian and Albert held their weapons at the ready, just in case it was a trap. But the wounds on the bodies suggested otherwise. It looked as if they had been severely burned in various places to the point where the wounds had actually opened up revealing raw, bleeding flesh – even more raw than the patches of irradiated flesh that already covered their bodies.

'You think we have an ally down here?' Natalia asked aloud.

'Just because whoever did this doesn't like ghouls doesn't make him our friend,' said Ian.

'These corpses are fresh,' said Tycho, observing the wounds. 'Whoever did this can't be far off.'

'What I want to know is how these ghouls made it down here in the first place,' said Albert. 'Either there's another way in that doesn't involve manhole covers, or these ghouls aren't as insane as the ones up top. I don't think I care much for the former option. And the latter leaves the question of who killed these ones.'

'Let's just keep moving,' said Ian. 'The sooner we're out of this rat hole, the happier I'll be.'

They moved forward, eventually leaving the free-flowing gutters and finding themselves on relatively dry brick and grated floors.

'We must be coming close to some sort of maintenance office or something,' said Ian.

'We've just about passed the barricades up top,' said Natalia, updating them on their position. 'Now where do we go?'

'Eight more blocks north and three west,' said Ian.

They moved forward again but had not gone far before they came across yet another ghoul corpse. This one was suffering from what appeared to be large bite marks.

'Mole rat,' Tycho said immediately, identifying the cause of death.

'I hate those things,' said Natalia, recalling the time she had narrowly escaped a charging mole rat down in the elevator shaft in Vault-15.

'We've got better firepower now,' said Ian. 'We'll be fine.' Then he paused and looked down at the corpse more closely. 'Speaking of firepower…' He knelt down and pried from the dead ghoul's stiff hand what looked like a cattle prod. Ian picked it up and thumbed the switch. He was greeted by a loud crackle of energy and two arcs of electricity that ran up the length of the shaft. 'Well,' he said, pleasantly surprised by how much energy the cattle prod had produced. 'This thing must have been designed for demon cows. And I think we've found our ghoul executor.'

'_Another _ghoul?' said Albert, eyeing the corpse. 'They're fighting each other?'

'Looks like the ecosystem here's a little more complicated than we thought,' said Tycho.

'So we have dumb, zombie ghouls on the surface, smart ghouls with spears, and other smart ghouls with electrified weapons,' Alex summarized. 'Where does that put us?'

'Hopefully not "dinner" for all the above,' Albert said morbidly.

'Here,' said Ian, tossing the cattle prod to Natalia.

'Why don't I get the shock stick?' Alex complained.

'Because you're liable to electrocute yourself,' Ian shot back.

With the mood lightened, the group headed on.

The remaining fifteen minutes found them traversing a long and straight corridor. Gone were the sewer junctions that stopped at a ladder leading up to a manhole to the surface. They had entered a different part of the sewer system. They headed on for another five minutes or so until, again, Natalia signaled for them to stop. This time, however, it wasn't corpses that blocked their way but the flickering glow of a fireplace that reflected off the brick walls from somewhere further ahead, past the bend of the tunnel.

'We _could _turn around and find another route,' said Natalia quietly.

'We're almost there,' Ian said in response. 'We're going to have to head on up and meet Set soon anyway. Might as well do a hostility check now before we do. Besides, we've got a long walk behind us. Who knows if there's another way to our destination? These tunnels don't seem to follow the grid up top anymore.'

'Alright, let's see what's waiting for us,' Albert declared, tired of the vacillating. Once again taking the lead, he marched forward.

It didn't take long until they found the tunnel widening out into a large storage space of some sort, blocked from the rest of the tunnels by a chain-link fence and gate. Through the fence they could see a couple of ghouls sitting at old tables on dirty armchairs or rotting wooden boxes, warming themselves by metal barrels containing burning paper and other flaming refuse.

One of the ghouls looked up and spotted them, but instead of snarling like the dozens of other ghouls they had faced earlier had done, this one calmly stood up. He looked slightly nervous but maintained an air of authority.

Albert clasped his Desert Eagle with both hands and had it half-raised, just to be sure. The ghoul lifted a hand, palm facing toward them in a gesture of peace, and spoke.

'Wait. Don't shoot! We mean you no harm,' he said. Albert kept his gun in position, eyeing the ghoul warily. The rest of the group came up behind him. 'I'll let you in if you promise not to shoot,' the ghoul continued.

'Only if you promise not to try to eat us,' Albert replied, half facetiously.

'We aren't like that,' the ghoul tried to assure them. It certainly seemed like he was telling the truth. None of the half dozen ghouls _looked_ aggressive. But then, looks could be deceiving. Albert noticed the spears they had lying around but none seemed eager to reach for any of them. The ghoul who had spoken walked up to the fence, lifted the latch and swung it open.

Cautiously, the vault dwellers and their companions filtered in. The rest of the ghouls, including a few more that had come in from another passage on the other side of the storage space, all watched them intently. But next to the ghouls on the surface, these appeared completely docile.

'Please, sit,' the first ghoul said, offering them some of the old wooden boxes as seats. Taken off guard by the unusual friendliness of the ghoul, the vault dwellers, Ian, and Tycho hesitantly took their seats, though their weapons were never far from reach. Dogmeat sat on his haunches.

'Thanks you for not shooting first,' said the ghoul once they were all seated. 'We don't get many visitors and those we do tend to treat us like the ghouls on the surface.'

'Yes, we've noticed your group… doesn't seem quite so eager to take a bite out of us,' said Albert. _At least not yet_, he thought to himself.

'That is not our way,' said the ghoul. 'I am Kane, the leader of this simple people here.' He waved his hand at the group of ghouls who now numbered about two dozen. 'We left the surface years ago because of the others.'

'You were forced down here?' asked Albert.

'The surface of Necropolis is controlled by Set and his ghouls,' said Kane. 'We are a much more peaceful group – something which disgusts Set. We are no longer welcome on the surface.'

'Guess that explains the dead the ghouls we came across earlier,' said Alex.

Kane sighed. 'Yes, that happens now and then. Some ghouls from topside think they'll come down here and cause a little ruckus, just for kicks. We may not be inclined to start a fight, but we've learnt from experience that it is sometimes necessary to defend ourselves, even from our own people. Unfortunately, it usually just ends in a waste of life on both sides.'

'This Set person…' said Albert, drawing the conversation back to the reason they had come. 'We were told to speak to him about a problem we have,' he told Kane.

'I'm not surprised,' said Kane. 'Set has assumed a certain amount of power in the world above ground. Anyone visiting Necropolis on business is directed to see him… assuming they can survive the ghoul horde above.'

'Those ghouls don't belong to either group?' asked Ian.

'Oh, they're Set's, there's no doubt about that,' Kane replied. 'As crazy as they are, a part of them still answers to Set. Set simply lets them do what they like most of the time. But what brings you all here that you would risk your lives to speak to Set?'

Albert weighed his options and decided to go with the honest route. 'We're looking for a water purification chip,' he said. 'We were led to believe that there's a vault somewhere below Necropolis. One of the ghouls we met told us Set would know where it is.'

'He does,' said Kane. 'But it won't be as easy as that. He's not just going to let you down there.'

'Why not?'

'Because he's an oaf.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'His ghouls control that watershed. And they let everyone know it, especially us.'

'I don't see what that has to do with the vault.'

'When we first left the vault, we salvaged parts of the vault to construct the watershed where the entrance to the vault used to be. It allowed us to construct a pump right where the vault's surface pipes were located to draw up water directly from the vault's wells deeper down. Saved us having to go up and down the elevators multiple times every day.'

'So basically you're saying that our only way into the vault is through the watershed and Set controls that,' said Ian.

'Right,' said Kane. 'And he won't let you go down there for free. He'll want something in return. That's how he is.'

'Not a pound of our flesh, I hope,' Alex muttered.

'Like what?' asked Albert.

Kane shrugged. 'Could be anything. Knowing him, he might even ask you to sacrifice your dog for a midnight snack.'

Everyone on the non-ghoul side shuddered at the thought.

'What's _your _deal with him?' Albert asked. 'If that's the source of the city's water, you must have some sort of arrangement to get water from Set and the surface ghouls.'

'He does not speak of it,' Kane explained, 'and I would advise you not to bring it up when you see him, but Set is afraid of not having enough people to defend Necropolis if it ever came to that.'

'So he basically gives you what water you need to keep you as a reserve army,' said Albert.

'Exactly.'

'Who would want to attack this place?' asked Alex.

'Raiders, other cities, maybe even those people over at the Brotherhood of Steel. Necropolis is a city, and that means it's chock-full of pre-War resources. Mostly we just scavenge what we can and trade it with merchants from the Hub, but who knows? Maybe someone someday with enough firepower to take a city will get greedy and decide he doesn't need us as middle men.'

'So you ghouls kill each other but never really go to war because you… need each other?' Alex tried to make sense of it all.

'You have a very strange form of politics down here,' Tycho added.

'Tell me about it,' Kane grumbled.

'Back to Set,' Albert said.

'We were told he's located in an old church of some sort,' said Ian.

'That's north of here,' said Kane. 'They call it the Halls of the Dead. That's Set for you. Full of pomp and delusions of grandeur.'

'If he's as… unpleasant as you say,' said Albert, 'is there any way we could simply bypass him and sneak our way into the watershed?'

'You could try,' said Kane, 'but he'll have the place well-guarded.'

'Might be worth a look-see at least,' said Tycho.

'Well, we appreciate the help,' said Albert. 'I do have to ask… I've said we're looking for the water chip from your vault. You haven't made any kind of objection so far. Are your people going to be okay without it?'

'There are many people in the wasteland who will try to take advantage of you at every conceivable opportunity,' said Kane. 'Set is one of those people. But there are others who still think that one good turn still deserves another, even in this wasteland. I belong to that second group, and I think you do too. There's only one reason I can think of for why you would risk your lives venturing into the City of the Dead for a part as specific as a water chip, and that's because you have a vault whose survival depends on it. Who am I to play god over the lives of hundreds of people?'

'But if you don't have that chip, how will you work the machinery down in the vault that collects the water?' asked Alex. 'I happen to know that the water chip is responsible for more than just purification.'

'The pumps were designed to replace the water system in the vault, relying only on the infrastructure already in place deep down below,' Kane explained. 'So long as the pumps in the watershed are working, we don't need the water chip. We'll be drinking irradiated water but, well, as you can see, that's not going to make a whole lot of difference for our kind anymore.'

'So you're really just going to let us walk in there and take the chip…' said Albert.

'Well, that's not for me to decide,' said Kane. 'Once you get to the watershed, your business is solely with Set and his ghouls.'

'You're a good man,' said Tycho. 'The world needs more people like you, especially now.'

'I'm hoping it'll rub off,' said Kane. 'Now you should probably get moving. If you do decide that an audience with Set is inevitable, the earlier in the night you do it, the better. If I recall correctly, Set tends to get tired and cranky towards daybreak. And don't even think of trying to wake him when it's bright out.'

The vault dwellers and their companions thanked Kane, impressed by how he seemed to be one of the only upright, selfless people they had met in their entire time out in the wasteland. Kane may have looked like a disfigured monster, but his heart was in a better condition than most of the denizens of the wasteland they had met.

With one of Kane's ghouls as a guide, the group traversed more of the sewer passages to avoid the debris up above. According to their guide, the only way to navigate the ruined metro area was if you had lived up there for years and had memorized all the makeshift access routes through the wreckage. Without that experience, the sewers provided the only feasible alternative.

The group travelled on for about a half hour until they came to a manhole that opened out onto the area of the city where the Halls of the Dead were located. Taking note of the ladder leading up to exit, they resumed their journey further north for another forty minutes until they stopped at yet another manhole. This one, their guide told them, led up to a junction that was a five-minute walk from the watershed. Offering them a final warning to avoid contact with the surface ghouls as much as possible and, if they so chose to meet with Set, to speak plainly and quickly without any beating-around-the-bush, their ghoul guide left them at the ladder to the manhole.

'Alright,' said Albert, once their guide had left. 'All we're going to do here is check out the lay of the land. 'If we find it's doable to sneak in, we'll do that.'

'No point all of us heading up top,' Tycho added. 'The fewer the better. Less chance of detection. I volunteer. I've done my fair share of skulking around in the wasteland.'

'None of which we can vouch for,' Ian objected.

'Coming from the person who goes guns blazing at the sight of any raider…' Tycho retorted.

'That was my job,' Ian argued.

'This is mine,' Tycho said simply.

'Alright, that's enough,' said Albert. 'We'll take your word for it,' he said to Tycho. 'But take Natalia with you. She'll prove an asset.' Natalia felt a brief flush of pride at Albert's recommendation.

'I've seen her in action at the Hightower mansion,' Tycho agreed. 'Happy to have you on board,' he said to Natalia.

'You've got five minutes to get there, five to get back, and ten to scout the place, twenty tops,' said Albert. 'That makes it no more than thirty minutes. We don't need you there the whole night.'

While the rest of the group waited, Tycho and Natalia ascended. The group saw a gleam of moonlight as Tycho moved the manhole cover out of the way. Then the two were climbing out onto the street above. They returned the cover to its original place and the rest were once again left in the dank darkness, their only source of light a burning wooden torch left behind by Kane's ghoul.

The minutes ticked slowly by. At twenty-six minutes, the manhole cover was moved out of place again and their two scouts returned. Their grave faces told everyone that it was a no-go.

'We're in deep shit,' said Natalia.

'Ghouls aren't guarding the watershed,' said Tycho. 'Not unless they somehow grew three feet and put on six hundred pounds each.'

'That sounds like—' Ian began.

'They're the same kind as the mutant we found in the Deathclaw cave,' Natalia confirmed, much to everyone else's consternation.

'Are they… allied with Set?' Alex wondered.

'Who knows?' Albert shrugged.

'Most of them are unarmed,' said Tycho, 'but I did spot one particularly large one at the entrance of the watershed dressed in some kind of armor and carrying a _really_ _big _gun.'

'You're a desert ranger and you don't know what kind of gun he was carrying?' Ian said cynically.

'It's like nothing I've ever seen before,' said Tycho. 'It's nothing conventional, that's for sure. Some kind of sniper rifle maybe, but bulkier than most.'

'How do we know if we can take them or not if you don't know what the hell he's using?' Ian said impatiently.

'Whatever it is,' said Tycho, 'if he's the only armed one and we can catch them off guard, I think we can take 'em out. I counted six. Natalia?'

She nodded.

'This is the attitude that got us in trouble with the Deathclaw,' Ian reminded them all.

'Which is why we'll have to plan our mode of our attack,' said Tycho.

'No one's attacking anything until we get some answers,' said Albert. 'We can argue about all this later, _after _we figure out what the hell's going on here. If they _are _with Set, then attacking them could mean getting on Set's bad side.'

'Well, his ghouls are already trying to kill us if that's what you mean,' said Ian.

'They were just reacting to our presence,' Albert replied. 'Imagine what might happen if Set actually ordered a city-wide hunt for us. I think we're going to have to find out just what these mutants are doing here. And that means we'll have to pay Set a visit after all.'

'Before we do,' Tycho added, 'there's… one other thing.'

'What?' asked Albert.

'There's a small building a block down from the watershed… There are people inside.'

'Scavengers?'

Tycho shook his head and cast a sideways glance at Ian. 'They're Children of the Cathedral.'

'What! _Those_ whackos?' Ian said in disbelief. 'How the hell did they make it this far in without getting torn to shreds by the ghouls?'

'What were they doing?' asked Albert.

'You won't believe this,' said Natalia, 'but they had a clinic set up.'

'What?!' This time it was Alex. 'Who are they trying to cure?'

'I was more interested in why the mutants aren't doing anything about them,' Natalia said. 'They're not exactly keeping their presence on the down-low.'

'Do you think they're a potential threat to us?' asked Albert.

'Unlikely,' said Tycho. 'We peered into a couple of windows. I don't see any weaponry. At most they've got a couple of scalpels and needles. It really _does_ appear like they're here for legitimate reasons.'

'There's nothing legitimate about setting up a clinic in the City of the Dead,' said Ian.

'Ghouls need medical attention too,' Tycho pointed out. 'Maybe they've got a deal with Set.'

'Maybe,' said Albert, 'but then why not set up where there actually_ are _more ghouls?'

'Tycho shrugged. 'Whatever it is, I don't think they're going to get in our way if we were to enter the watershed. I think it's just the mutants we need to be worried about.'

* * *

><p>They retraced their steps to the first exit where Set's headquarters was located and, once again, waited till Natalia and Tycho performed an initial reconnaissance. The good news was that there didn't seem to be any half-naked fully-crazy ghouls wandering the streets in front of the old church building or anywhere in the vicinity. The bad news was the two ghouls at the entrance to the Halls of the Dead, armed with AK-112s – assault rifles the vault dwellers recognized from vids they had watched about U.S. military forces around the time of the Great War.<p>

'How are we going to do this?' asked Ian.

Albert thought for a moment as they crouched behind the cover of a half-destroyed old building missing its roof. 'I'll go in, show them I mean no harm.'

'Alone?' said Natalia. 'You'll get eaten alive!'

'Maybe literally,' Alex muttered.

'If you go in alone, they'll know you're vulnerable,' said Ian. 'Better to go as a group. That way they'll know we mean business.'

'Or they could go trigger happy if they see all of us at once,' said Albert. 'Here's what we'll do. I'll approach them first. Alone. You cover me. If they look like they're going to start a fight, take them out, or at least give me enough cover fire till I can find shelter. If they let me in, I'll signal and the rest of you can join me then.'

It seemed like a reasonable, if risky, proposition and so the rest waited while Albert walked out into the open in full view of the two ghoul guards. From their cover, the rest of the group watched as the two ghouls prepared their rifles, holding them at the ready but not yet aiming directly at Albert.

The rest of the team were too far away to make out the conversation but after what seemed like too long a negotiation, Albert signaled to them and they all came out of hiding. The two guards grew even more wary but let them pass unmolested through the heavy wooden doors that led into the old church.

'What did you tell them?' asked Ian.

'I found out something about those mutants at the watershed,' Albert explained quietly as they walked into the vestibule. 'They're not there at the behest of Set. The ghouls don't like them there either.'

'That doesn't explain how the ghouls still get their water,' said Tycho. 'There must be some kind of arrangement between the two.'

Albert nodded. 'Not one Set and his ghouls like,' he said as their inner doors to the Halls of the Dead opened. 'Either way, we both want the mutants gone. I told the guards we might be able to help each other.'

The group stepped cautiously into the nave and found themselves walking down the central aisle between rows of old, rotting, wooden pews that were slowly falling apart. Several mean-looking ghouls occupied some of the pews, their unfriendly gazes turning towards the group as they passed. Along with the odd door along the way leading into smaller prayer rooms or offices off to either side of the building, small alcoves had also been constructed at regular intervals on the walls on both sides, probably to house religious relics or other paraphernalia back in the building's heyday. Each alcove was blocked off by a retractable cage-like fence, presumably so that whatever was stored there could be protected from would-be thieves. But that was then. Now, to the group's great surprise, each alcove housed a solitary ghoul. Yet these were not like the other ghouls. These ones had bright, white, luminescent skin, the collective glow of which filled the nave with a dim, unsettling light. Far down the aisle at the spot where the altar had once been, now rested a tall armchair atop which sat the ugliest, meanest-looking ghoul any of them had ever seen, flanked by two ghoul guards who looked almost as nasty. The unholy symbolism wasn't lost on any of the group members. It was apparent that they had just found the head ghoul.

Like Harold way back at the Hub, Set was lacking an actual nose and one of his eyes. But that was where the resemblances ended. His closed eye had been welded shut by what looked like crisscrosses of scarred flesh, as if something had scratched it permanently closed. As for his other eye, the pupil burned with an evil-looking red glow. Set's mouth was opened in a half-snarl, although no one could tell if that was because of how his face had mutated or because he was genuinely scowling at them. Or both. In that sneer, they saw bluish-white teeth that appeared longer than normal teeth because the gums had largely degenerated away. While Set had patches of mold on his skin just like Harold and many of the other ghouls, the majority of his mottled skin was brown, almost like cardboard or the bark of a tree. The only plus point he had was that, for the most part, his skin appeared to be in better condition than most of the other ghouls; the only exposed, raw, red flesh they could see was on part of his bald head.

Like Harold and all the other ghouls, the cartilage that comprised his ears had fallen off a long time ago and sticking out of his left ear canal was an old-fashioned, 17th-century ear trumpet. In order to keep it in place so that the opening was facing forward, the trumpet had been secured by a length of wire attached to what appeared to be a metallic head brace that rested atop Set's scarred head like a crown. Metal screws had been bored into the metal ring and went right into the ghoul's skull to hold the device in place. If it had actually been meant as a crown, it certainly had also been meant to be permanent.

Unlike the other ghouls that were mostly garbed in old rags, Set had on additional plates of rusted metal that made up a makeshift form of armor. All in all, it made him look like some twisted monarch, dressed in shoddy metal armor with a metal crown to boot. In juxtaposition to Albert's far more complete half-suit of metal armor, it made both of them look like royal counterparts of some sort, each representing their own respective subspecies.

The old ghoul transfixed them with his one red eye and rose to his feet. He was as skinny and bony as any other ghoul but that didn't make him look any less menacing.

'There'd better be a killer reason for standin' in my shadow,' he rasped at Albert. 'Does "next on the menu" ring a bell for ya… _normie_?' That last word came out disparagingly, as if Set saw being "normal" as some kind of disease.

'We were told to talk to you about business we have in the vault,' said Albert. 'But from what I hear, there's some people over there whom we'd both rather see gone.'

'You see more than you should,' said Set, 'but not enough.'

'Tell me then,' said Albert. 'Why have mutants taken over what is rightfully yours?'

'You don't even read the lines,' Set said cryptically. 'Unless Necropolis is forever your home to be, walk it from thought. I have no time for a foolish blood-bag.'

'Fine,' said Albert. 'But the fact remains that we both want them out of there. Maybe we can help each other out. I know one of them at least is well-armed. But if we work together, maybe we can put them down with minimal loss of life.'

'True,' said Set after eyeing Albert thoughtfully. Albert couldn't tell if he was considering his proposition or crafting some other plan of his own. 'The mutants at the watershed need dirt-naps,' he said finally. 'Makes my shadow grow. You slice 'em and rewards run to you.'

'We don't need rewards,' said Albert. 'We need access to the vault.'

'What business have you with the old home?'

'Your old vault has a part we need. A water purification chip.'

Set gave it more thought. 'Very well,' he said finally. 'Teach those mutants the last lesson, then amble back. Then we can talk access.'

'Wait, this is something you want as much as we do. Teaming up will make the job much easier.'

'Why send a ghoul for a child's work? You wish passage? Handle them.'

Albert realized he was treading on thin ice, but he didn't want his team to have to go up against the mutants without backup if he could help it. He just couldn't see why Set was so unwilling to help when it served both their interests. This was certainly a hiccup he hadn't foreseen in the negotiations.

'If we fail, you're back at square one,' he pushed. 'Why not just spare some of your ghouls. We could use a few extra rifles.'

'Look before you squeak,' Set warned, growing dangerously impatient. 'You'll enjoy. Be a shame to anger me.'

'Fine,' Albert conceded. 'If you're not going to help, at least get your ghouls off our backs. The last thing we need is to be pinned between the mutants at the watershed and your flesh-hungry ghouls.'

'If I say to my ghouls to hold off you, the muties might hear and know,' Set replied. 'I keep shut. Got it?'

'You're not making this easy for us at all,' Albert said seriously. 'What happens if we run into another mob?'

'_Avoid _my ghouls if you like your skin on,' Set said simply. 'Any of mine that can't stop a normie deserve last rest. Get by as you need.'

Albert shook his head in slight exasperation. Set had essentially just given them license to kill any of his people that got in their way. If ever there was a brutal leader, hardened by the wasteland in more ways than one, Set was surely the one.

'For both our sakes, I hope this works out,' said Albert finally and resignedly.

'Follow Garret out,' Set said, ending the conversation. 'And be showing your pearly whites too.'

'We have a deal on the watershed, then?' Albert asked, seeking verification.

Set groaned. 'Yeah, yeah. Don't fret, I keep a straight-word. The _Master _runs the twist.'

'The Master?' said Albert out loud, a sense of foreboding creeping over him and the rest of his team as he recalled the transmissions Ian and Alex had shown him earlier from the radio of the mutant in the Deathclaw's cave. If this was the same Master he was thinking about, then it appeared that these mutants at the watershed belonged to the same group that had been attacking the merchant caravans. 'What do you know of this Master?' he asked Set.

'You have your deal,' Set said adamantly. 'Walk.'

'If we're helping you out with your problem, we could at least use a little more information,' said Albert.

'Speak when your words have weight, not before,' Set replied. With that last dismissal, Set signaled to one of his bodyguards, presumably the one called Garret.

'Follow me,' the old ghoul croaked and led the way. It soon became clear that, unlike the few runner-ghouls they had come across, Garret was a shuffler. Garret took a full four minutes to walk back down the aisle they had come and unlock one of the secondary rooms nearest the vestibule. Following him, they found themselves in a small office that seemed even smaller because it was cramped with all kinds of supplies like flares, Nuka-Cola crates, boxes of ammunition, and a few weapons. Due to the cramped space, Garret had to order the two guards sitting inside to vacate the premises so the vault dwellers and their companions could fit into the room with him.

'If you want to have some chance against the mutants, you're going to need this,' he said, digging into the mess of items to procure an AK-112 much like his own. He handed it over to Albert, then proceeded to dig around some more for ammunition.

'Well, at least he's not sending us off to our deaths empty-handed,' Ian joked grimly.

While Garret continued rummaging through the supplies, the team looked around. For the most part, everything had been stacked or thrown around in a haphazard manner. But one thing stood out. Natalia's eyes spotted a folded note laid out on a rare empty space on one of the cluttered desks. Noticing Garret's back was turned, she gave a quick glance at Albert who nodded. Shifting over as much as she could without knocking over anything, Natalia surreptitiously lifted one edge of the note, and scanned the words quickly before folding it again and returning it to its originally spot.

Garret chose that moment to successfully locate two boxes of lightweight 5mm ammunition for the assault rifle. He returned to their side and handed the boxes to Albert. Albert thanked him.

'Thank me when the job's done,' said the ghoul. 'If you fail, both our people lose.'

'Then why doesn't Set give us reinforcements?'

'Because if _that _fails…' Garret paused to shudder but left it at that.

'When this is done, we're going to need answers,' said Albert as the rest of his team slowly navigated the mess to leave the room the way they had come in.

'_If _this is done,' said Garret, '_then_ we will talk. Not before.' Having demonstrated that he was as tightlipped as Set, Garret ushered them out the door.

The team left the Halls of the Dead and its unsettling inhabitants behind and once again found themselves on the darkened streets of Necropolis.

'Well, we'd best get below ground soon,' said Albert. 'No thanks to our benefactor, we're going to have to be extra careful in approaching the watershed.' He pulled the canvas sling of his newly acquired assault rifle around his neck and shoulder while handing over his old Desert Eagle to Natalia. 'Can you dual-wield?' he asked.

'At close range, probably,' she said honestly, testing the weight of the second Desert Eagle in her left hand.

'Good,' said Albert. ''Cause we're going to need as much firepower as possible for this next one.'


	16. Chapter 15: Blood and Water

Here we go. Attack on the watershed. Quick reply to the comments/reviews:

There will be romance. Eventually. I just have to figure out how to bring it back in slowly (since I effectively destroyed the last one) and build it up (hopefully) realistically. So bear with me for this chapter.

The canon is pretty bare-bones about this part except for the two main events, which I won't really state here to avoid giving away spoilers before you actually read the chapter. I believe I followed it pretty accurately and then got creative with the huge chunk of it that isn't covered in detail in the canon.

I am realizing two strange things about fanfiction. First, I can't use two symbols consecutively. So there were times in previous chapters where I tried to use a ? and a ! but one of them got automatically deleted. Don't know why and can't figure out the logic for it, but, oh well. Hopefully those parts still made sense. Second, I used to have problems with section breaks. At first I used multiple asterisks, then I realized that the format on fanfiction deletes it. So I used multiple Xs. Now even that gets automatically changed to a single X. Again, I don't know why, but, oh well, I'll work with it. Now I'm trying to use page breaks and see if that makes a difference.

Ooh, two more things.

1: In the previous chapter, I realized that I unintentionally borrowed a line straight out of Mass Effect 2. My bad. I've changed that and reuploaded chapter 14.

2: In this chapter, there's one minor character that ends up talking a lot like a salarian. Sorry. I just finished Mass Effect 3 a couple of days ago and can't get Mordin Solus' peculiar speech mannerisms out of my head.

**Chapter Fifteen: Blood and Water**

The group spent the night in an old security office at the ground floor of what had once been a commercial office building, several blocks away from the watershed. Rubble and wrecked furniture was strewn all over the place but the room had one big advantage: its doors were still intact, giving them a closed, relatively safe environment to rest for the night.

It was difficult for anyone to get any sleep that night, except perhaps for Tycho and Dogmeat. Part of it was because every few minutes they heard the hungry slobbering of ghouls wandering the streets outside. Although they were certain they wouldn't be detected in the office, the sounds were enough to raise the anxiety levels above the threshold for sleep allowance.

The other part of the reason was the note Natalia had gotten a peek at in the ghouls' storage room back in the Halls of the Dead. It was a short note and Natalia had recited it from memory:

**Set,**

**Now that you have grown accustomed to the presence of our super mutants, you are required to begin with the new directive: all pure-strain humans entering Necropolis are to be captured and handed over to Harry at the watershed where they will be confined until the next scavenger team can escort them to me. Keep your flesh-hungry ghouls on a leash. The prisoners are to be unharmed.**

**The Lieutenant**

The chances of there being two mutants – or "super mutants" as they were apparently called – who went by the title "Lieutenant" were slim. Precluding a highly unlikely coincidence, this confirmed that the super mutants responsible for the missing caravans back at the Hub and the super mutants here at the watershed indeed came from one and the same group. It was troubling to say the least. No one know exactly what "pure-strain" meant, but the fact remained that these super mutants were after humans, not ghouls. That meant that they themselves were potential candidates for abduction, which left one unanswered question: whose side was Set really on? Had he disregarded this directive by giving the vault dwellers and their companions permission to take out the super mutants at the watershed? Or was he working with the Lieutenant and setting the group up for an ambush? Garret's token of good will seemed to suggest the former, but no one could really be sure. In the end, all they could do was to be extra vigilant in both their planning and execution.

But that was for the next day. They had still been weary from their earlier run-in with Necropolis' cannibalistic ghouls and the office had been too dim for any effective planning to be made. Deciding to postpone the planning till the next morning, the group had split, each one finding his or her own place in the small office room for the night.

Albert had his bedroll spread out and sat on it with his back against the wall. Dogmeat lay next to him, sleeping lightly but opening his eyes every now and then as if to double check that they had not come under some kind of attack. Tycho was also nearby, his shotgun resting beside him within easy reach, his hands clasped over his slowly rising and falling chest. No one else was sleeping.

Before settling in, Tycho had started a makeshift fire with nothing but a piece of flint and kindling salvaged from pieces of dry cloth he kept in his pack. Sustaining the small fireplace with pieces of old office paper and anything else that would burn, the group had created a source of light and warmth sufficient for the cold night. Natalia now sat by the fireside, cleaning both her Desert Eagles and teaching Alex to do the same. Ian lay on his own bedroll near the door but, from where he sat, Albert could see that Ian was wide awake. Even he was out of his element here in the City of the Dead.

Alex finished reassembling his Desert Eagle and, after getting his congratulations from Natalia, walked over to Albert.

'May I speak with you for a moment,' he said quietly so as not to alert any would-be wandering ghouls outside.

'What's on your mind?' asked Albert.

Alex looked around to make sure the rest of the group were either asleep or too far away to hear before speaking.

'This thing we're doing tomorrow,' he said, pausing for a moment before continuing. 'I'm not sure I'm ready for this. I mean, yeah I know the kind of things we need to do to survive alone in the wasteland. I know how to salvage old tech to make what I need. But those tests we did back in the Vault… they never assessed our ability to fire a weapon or fight off these super mutant things. I'm starting to think it was a mistake to bring me along. I'm starting to feel like I'm just a burden.'

Albert gave a small laugh. 'Don't feel bad,' he said. 'I was the same way when we first left the Vault.'

'Like how?'

'When we first left the Vault all those weeks ago… we never even made it out of the cave before we were attacked.'

'By mutant rats, wasn't it? You were telling me and Theresa about it on the way to Junktown.'

Albert nodded. 'What I didn't tell you was that when those rats attacked, I was the only one who could barely defend himself. Natalia and… and Stone… they were both like professional rodent exterminators, Stone with his gun and Natalia with her knife… I couldn't even figure out how to get my gun to fire.'

Alex smirked. 'Guess all those computer simulations and tests were all worthless, huh?'

'Oh, they'll come in handy,' Albert reassured him. 'You know the Vault computers better than any one of us, which means you can help us locate and extract that water chip with minimal waste of time. You also have survival knowledge—'

'Which Tycho already provides,' said Alex. 'First hand.'

'True, but it's always good to have a second opinion.'

'But all that's well and good so long as you don't have super mutants, or ghouls, or deathclaws, or scorpions, or anything else breathing down your neck,' said Alex. 'How did you do it? How did you go from not knowing how to use a gun to wiping out a bunch of veteran raiders, killing a Junktown mobster, and now planning to take out a team of giant super mutants?'

'Mostly through a lack of alternatives and a whole lot of luck,' Albert said half facetiously.

'But you _did _have alternatives,' said Alex. 'You could have just walked away from the Khans. You could have just walked away from that raider in Junktown.'

'Not to me,' said Albert.

'So you just… follow your gut all the time?'

'I wish it were always that simple,' Albert sighed, his thoughts going back to Doc Morbid and Iguana Bob. Then he steeled his voice. 'But this one is,' he said with conviction. 'These super mutants are the only way down into that vault. This is our one and only lead. And Kane, at least, seems to think that their vault does in fact have a functioning water chip. If we give up now and turn back, who knows if we'll ever get another breakthrough? We'll be back at square one. If we don't get that chip soon, Vault-13's as good as dead.'

'I get that,' said Alex. 'What I don't get is why we're fighting these super mutants on our own. The city is swarming with Set's ghouls. If he wanted to, he could mobilize the entire city and overrun the watershed. I don't care how well armed those six mutants are. They can't fight off hundreds of ghouls.'

'I agree,' Albert responded. 'There's something going on here that doesn't quite fit. But the bottom line is Set's not going to lift a finger to help us. And that means _we_ haveto solve this mutant problem on our own.'

Alex sighed. 'I know, I just…' He looked over the Desert Eagle that had once belonged to Stone.

'You'll be fine,' Albert reassured him. 'You'll see when we discuss the plan tomorrow. Don't sweat it. I'll have Dogmeat here beside you the whole time.'

Hearing his name, Dogmeat made a querulous sound and looked up at Albert. Albert patted him on his head and scratched his ears. Satisfied his new master had no new directive, Dogmeat lowered his head again and fell back to sleep. Albert couldn't help but smile fondly at his newfound friend.

'You should try to get some sleep as well,' Albert said to Alex. 'Let tomorrow take care of itself. Just think of what'll happen once we succeed. Do you have family back home?'

Alex nodded. 'Family of five.'

'Well, think of them, then,' he said. 'When we finally get that chip, just think about how much better their lives are going to be. No more rations. No more worrying. No more separation. Just the whole Vault community, back to the usual daily motions of trying to get the Overseer to accede to our demands.'

Alex smiled at the thought. 'Thanks,' he said.

'Anytime,' said Albert.

Alex walked off to his bedroll, put his gun down, and lay on his side, trying to get whatever hours of sleep were left of the night. Albert watched him and then went back to doing the exact opposite of what he had told Alex. He pulled over some old bits of stationery he had salvaged from a couple of desks in the room and proceeded to spend the rest of the night constructing a makeshift model of the watershed and running scenarios over in his mind.

* * *

><p>With the morning came an eerie silence. Gone were the hungry moans of Necropolis' ghouls. Opening the security office door allowed a crack of warm sunlight into the room. A quick look outside showed they were in the clear. Wherever the ghouls chose to rest in the daytime, the immediate area wasn't it. With the ample light of morning, Albert showed the rest of the team the model he had made of the watershed and the immediate surrounding buildings, complete with windows, doorways, and the last known positions of the super mutants.<p>

When Vault-12 had first been built, Vault-Tec had had to clear away a large plot of land once occupied by a central town park. In its place, the company had built a single-storey administrative building-cum-vault entrance. This large L-shaped building had since been repurposed for its current use as the ghouls' watershed.

The rest of the space not occupied by the building was taken up by a wide courtyard with a single shed located nearer to the main building but separate from it. This smaller booth had once been used for the registration of new arrivals to Vault-12. Now it was an empty shack occupied by one of the six super mutants standing guard.

Provided they hadn't shifted their positions since the night, there was one more mutant out in the courtyard, one (armed with that strange high-tech rifle) just inside the main lobby of the watershed, and three more in one of the windowed rooms further into the building.

Aside from the main entrance, the watershed had one more emergency exit at the rear end of the building but it had been built for the average un-mutated human being. No ten-foot super mutant was going to be able to get through that entryway, at least not without causing a whole lot of structural damage. As for the courtyard, the north and east sides were enclosed by the watershed. The west side faced a multi-storied shopping mall – the same one where the Children of the Cathedral had set up shop – while the south side faced a single-story restaurant.

The restaurant provided the group with the perfect setup. It had large glass paneling overlooking the courtyard with a clear line of sight into the watershed's main entrance. It also gave them plenty of distance from their targets. Natalia and Ian's run-in with the Deathclaw had taught them that when faced with a creature almost twice the size of an average person, distance was key. Assuming Natalia and Tycho's report had been accurate and most of the super mutants were in fact unarmed, then it would be the distance they would count on to take down any mutants that tried to rush them.

That left the armed mutant. There was still no way of knowing what kind of damage his rifle could do and none of the vault dwellers or their companions were willing to hinge everything on a straight out firefight. If it really _was _some high-powered sniper rifle, none of them were safe, not even if they took cover in the restaurant.

There was also the problem with the ghouls. No one knew what would happen once they started a firefight with the super mutants. Presumably, the ghouls knew to give the watershed a wide berth. After all, that was the whole reason why the vault dwellers and their companions had been tasked with clearing the watershed in the first place. But would the ghouls wandering the streets get wise to the implications of a gunfight? Would they investigate and, more worryingly, come to feast once the fight was over? All this meant that the team had to take out the super mutants fast and then get out quickly just in case the ghoul horde decided to come and investigate the ruckus. They would have to get creative.

While Albert, Alex, and Ian worked on a plan, Natalia and Tycho left to give the area a second reconnaissance just to make sure the super mutants hadn't changed their positions since the night. The two of them agreed to meet the rest in the restaurant after they had done their rounds.

'Alex and Tycho will stay in the restaurant and provide cover fire and a distraction,' Albert explained, placing three old paper clips into the old checkbook box that represented the restaurant in his larger model of the watershed and the surrounding area. 'Dogmeat will stay by the two of you so that you'll be able to deal with any mutants that get too close,' he said to Alex. 'Ian, you said you got us some frag grenades before we left the Hub?'

'Two,' said Ian.

'Perfect,' Albert commented. 'If those three mutants in the watershed are still in the same quarters they were last night, it'll be the perfect opportunity for you to sneak around the back and drop your package off through the window. They won't know what hit them. Even if those grenades aren't enough to take them out, at least it'll weaken them.'

'What about Natalia?' asked Alex.

'She'll take the roof. It worked out for us the last time at the Khans. It'll put her in the perfect position to help take out any super mutants exiting the building.'

'And you?' Ian asked him.

'We need to get that one with the rifle out of the building so he has no cover. He's the biggest threat, so we need to be able to take him down fast.'

'It sounds like a solid plan,' said Ian, 'but how do you propose we do that last part?'

'I'll talk to him,' Albert said simply. Both the other two men stared at him wide-eyed. 'These super mutants want us "unharmed", if you recall. I'm not saying they won't defend themselves, but I'm betting they'll be hesitant to land the first blow.'

* * *

><p>While Albert was proposing his plan to Alex and Ian, Natalia and Tycho were busy scouting the area a second time. After an hour of reconnaissance, they met at the rear entrance to the watershed.<p>

'The three super mutants are still in that that office room,' Tycho reported. '_But_… they're all awake. They're… you won't believe this… They're tossing around a decapitated ghoul's head in some kind of ball game.'

Natalia frowned. 'Well, at least they're preoccupied.'

'True, but the moment we start our attack, they'll be out the door in a second. Unless we've got a way to take them all down fast, we may have to consider putting this attack off till night.'

Natalia sighed. 'That's assuming they revert to the same shifts as last night.'

'We'll discuss that once we get back to the rest,' said Tycho.

'Weapons?'

'None that I could see, but that doesn't mean they aren't there.'

'Just to keep our options open, is there any way we might sneak in through this back entrance, down the staircase, bypass the mutants, and head directly to the vault entrance?'

'No chance. I checked. There are two of those glowing ghouls down in the passage in the basement. If we get into a scuffle with them, it'll alert the super mutants nearby. _And _every now and then one of the three mutants in the office comes out to the check that no one's in the water pump room anyway.'

'Good to know anyway, I guess.'

'What about on your end?'

'Children of the Cathedral are still in the same place, doing their thing,' said Natalia. 'Don't know how they'll react once the bullets start flying but I doubt they'll get in the way. The super mutant with the gun's still in the lobby area. The other one… or his replacement, I can't tell the difference… is still in the booth in the courtyard and the final one's still standing out in the open. Both of those are unarmed.'

Natalia had been using her finger to draw out a crude diagram of the positions of the mutants on a patch of sand on the ground. Having given her report, she looked up to find Tycho smiling fondly.

'What?' she asked expectantly, cocking her head and casting a side glance at him.

'You're good at this,' Tycho complimented her. 'I've been trained in reconnaissance ever since I could hold a gun. You've just been doing this for… what?... a month and a half?'

'I'm not… totally without experience,' Natalia said coyly. 'Except while you were no doubt taught to avoid raiders and wild mutant animals and such, I was mostly sneaking my way past other vault dwellers.' Tycho gave her a querulous look. 'I didn't exactly have what you might call an "honorable past" back in the Vault.'

'Well, I won't be the first to cast a stone,' said Tycho. 'I may be a ranger, but I've had to make… compromises along the way.'

'Are you a religious person, Tycho?' she asked, picking up on the Bible quote.

'I—'

Whatever Tycho had been about to say was abruptly cut off as Natalia grabbed his shoulder, her other finger on her lips. Slowly he followed her gaze over his shoulder to the ruins of the building on the other side of the street. The building had once been a tall residential condominium – one of the newer buildings to appear in Bakersfield before the bombs went off. But at ground level, the developers had made enough room to allow for a few restaurants, boutiques, and other shops to set up. Now, in the ruins of what had once been a small pharmacy, Natalia and Tycho spotted the half-naked form of a ghoul scrounging through the rubble.

'What are you doing awake at this time of the day?' Tycho wondered quietly.

'We should probably leave before he spots us,' Natalia said, speaking just as softly.

'The last thing we need is for some random prowling ghoul to gut us in the back while our attentions are focused on the super mutants,' said Tycho as he drew his combat knife from its sheath in his belt.

'Is this a good idea?' Natalia asked.

'I can take _one _ghoul,' Tycho replied as he began to cross the road. He was halfway across when Natalia hissed at him. He turned to find her pointing at the store next door. Emerging from the doorway came another ghoul. The ghoul spotted them both and rose from its crouch. Before it could utter a noise, Tycho's knife sailed through the air and embedded itself in its throat. Tycho had taken only one step towards retrieving his weapon when another ghoul appeared in the doorway. Without his melee weapon, Tycho retreated back to Natalia's position. The ghoul spotted them but the sight of its fallen comrade gave it pause.

'Give me your knife,' said Tycho. 'We need to shut him up quickly before—'

The ghoul gave a low growl. In reply, the other ghoul in the pharmacy lifted its head from its scrounging and spotted them through the window. It was soon joined by two others.

'Shit, now what?' Natalia cursed quietly.

'Into the watershed,' said Tycho, pulling open the backdoor to the building.

Natalia had taken only one step in when she pulled herself quickly back out and nearly slammed the door shut in haste.

'Super mutant!' she warned. A quick glance across the street told them that the group of four ghouls had congregated and had clearly almost summoned enough courage to cross over the street for their next meal.

'Did he see you?' Tycho asked quickly.

'He saw something, at least,' came the reply.

'On the roof, quick!' he commanded urgently. Dropping his shotgun, Tycho got down on one knee and cupped his hands to give Natalia a boost up. Natalia's foot landed on his palms and, with sudden force, she was launched upwards. Nimbly grabbing hold of the edge of the rooftop, she hoisted herself up and turned to help Tycho. But by that point, the ghouls were already charging.

'Dammit,' Tycho growled, retrieving his shotgun and aiming it at the nearest ghoul.

From her position on the rooftop, Natalia heard heavy thumping beneath her and she suddenly realized the super mutant had come to investigate… in full force.

'Tycho! Mutant!' she called out a warning.

'I hear it,' Tycho said, his back still facing the door.

'No, it's coming right at you!' she shouted frantically.

'I know,' Tycho said calmly.

'Get out of the w—'

At the last moment, Tycho leapt to the side. The door and a huge chunk of brickwork around it crashed outward as the grey-green form of the super mutant burst out of the watershed, scattering plaster and broken bricks everywhere. The ghouls, nearly on top of Tycho, came to a screeching halt at the entrance of the eight-foot-tall monster that had suddenly appeared right in front of them. The expressions of sudden shock and panic on their faces were almost comical but, for Natalia and Tycho, the situation was too dire to appreciate the humor.

Like all the others, this mutant stood at just over eight feet and that was only because he was incredible hunched. Were he to have stood up straight, he would just have topped ten feet. Dressed only in a large pair of cargo pants and boots, it was easy to see how the mutant had earned the title "super". Looking at his bare chest was like watching a weightlifter on a double dose of steroids, every muscle rippling with each movement. Just one of his hands was as large as any of the ghouls' heads.

The mutant's head was large and squarish in shape with a buzz cut hairstyle. Every feature of the mutant's face was oversized to the point that he actually needed a large, thick rubber band secured around his face and under his upper lip to pull it back so that it wouldn't obstruct his vocal passageway. The effect was to reveal the mutant's large blunt upper teeth in what appeared as a toothy sneer.

For a moment, almost everyone was immobile. Natalia was still crouched on the rooftop. Tycho still lay on his side where he had fallen after leaping out of the way. The four ghouls still stood in shock, staring up at the super mutant. The mutant was the only one moving and that was because its momentum was still carrying him forward. He bulldozed straight into two of the four stunned ghouls, sending them flying across the road. With one swipe, he effortlessly tossed another one off to the side. The ghoul landed right at Tycho's feet, knocked senseless by the impact. That was when the super mutant spotted Tycho. The one remaining ghoul fled but the super mutant was no longer interested in it. He knew the difference between ghouls and relatively less irradiated humans. He also spotted the shotgun in Tycho's hand and knew he had to get to the human before he could fire the weapon.

Tycho scrambled to his feet as the mutant took one lumbering step towards him.

'Dammit!' Natalia swore as she broke the silence by firing both Desert Eagles into the back of the super mutant's head. The mutant roared in pain and staggered forward. Natalia's face registered a moment's surprise that the mutant was still standing before she loosed another dozen more rounds. Even as the bullets hit their mark, the mutant still managed to turn and fix her with a murderous glare. Two shots exploded from Tycho's shotgun. Both slugs crashed into the back of the mutant's head. The mutant stood with a stunned look on its face. Natalia's guns were still trained on him and she was about to put another two rounds into his face when the mutant tottered and crashed to the ground.

* * *

><p>'What the hell was that?' Alex said as the multiple gunshots broke the silence of the morning. From their new position in the restaurant, the three men and one dog peered over through the large glass windows to the watershed on the other side of the street. The gunshots had certainly originated from somewhere in that direction but, from their position facing the courtyard, they could not see what was going on.<p>

'It's our folks,' Ian said, identifying the sounds of gunfire.

'Something must have gone wrong,' Albert noted.

Two mutants emerged out into the courtyard to join the third, all alerted by the gunfire. The first came from the small booth in the courtyard. The second, the one armed with the futuristic looking rifle and dressed in plates of black metal secured around its body like a suit of armor, stepped out from the main lobby of the watershed.

'Around the back!' the armed mutant barked at the other two. The two unarmed super mutants broke into a run, crossing the courtyard to eastern side of the building in just a few steps.

'Change of plans!' Albert shouted. 'Take them down! Don't let them get to Natalia and Tycho!' Swinging his assault rifle into position through the entryway to the restaurant, Albert fired off a burst at the running mutant. The rounds struck the nearest mutant on his right flank. Splotches of red opened up on his unprotected side. But the wounds seemed superficial. All three super mutants stopped and turned their attentions to the restaurant.

'Get them!' the mutant in the armor roared. As the closest mutant changed trajectory and charged madly towards the restaurant, the one with the long-barreled rifle aimed it at Ian and pulled the trigger.

Everyone in the restaurant ducked as the rifle gave off a loud high-pitched burst. It sounded almost exactly like energy weapons the vault dwellers had seen on the sci-fi vids back home, only much louder and far scarier. The large glass window they had been peering out of shattered with a noisy crash.

'Holy shit! What the hell was that?' Ian gave an impressed laugh.

'Figure it out later!' Albert shouted back, firing at the unarmed mutant that had just crossed the street in three loping strides. Through the shattered remains of the window, Alex and Ian fired with their own weapons. In between Albert's assault rifle, Alex's Desert Eagle, and Ian's submachine gun, the charging mutant took over three dozen rounds into his face, body, and legs by the time he reached the restaurant. He went down before he could reach the restaurant, but that gave the second one enough time to cross the street. They managed to get off a few more rounds at close range before he leapt at them through the broken window. At the last moment, Ian and Alex scrambled desperately to get out of the way of the charging juggernaut as he launched himself over the low restaurant wall where the glass window panel had once stood.

The mutant missed both men and crashed into two tables before landing on his side. Before he could get back up, everyone opened fire, pummeling him with lead from three different angles. Another burst of energy came from across the street. Albert turned in time to see what actually appeared to be a red laser beam cut through the air, penetrate the low wall of the restaurant at the base of the now defunct glass window, and slice right through both Alex's right ear and right hand. Alex screamed in pain as his ear was cleanly sheared off from his head and his index finger was lopped off at the second phalanx.

Albert and Ian returned fire as the mutant in the courtyard calmly tracked them through the scopes of what they now had to admit was some kind of high-tech laser rifle. Albert saw the red beam shift from Alex's position to his own and he rolled to the side as another burst of red energy burnt a hole through the wall and into the ground where he had been taking cover.

'Guys!' Alex warned, clutching the remnants of his ear with his left hand. The mutant in the restaurant who had been filled with dozens of rounds of lead was slowly pushing himself to his feet. 'That thing's still getting up!' When he realized that the two other men were preoccupied with the mutant in the courtyard, Alex released his hold over his head wound and snatched up his fallen pistol with his left hand.

Just then, Dogmeat, who had hitherto been unable to participate in the gunfight, leapt onto the rising mutant, latching his fangs around the back of the mutant's neck. The mutant bellowed in pain, and, even with the multiple gunshot wounds, found the energy to grab Dogmeat with one hand and hurl him away. Dogmeat's grip had been firm, however, and as he was tossed to the other end of the restaurant, his teeth drew long jagged tears into the mutant's neck.

With the gun in his off hand, Alex fired until his weapon went empty. Only half the shots hit their mark but it was enough to give the mutant pause. Then Dogmeat was back. Having recovered quickly from his fall, Dogmeat launched himself back at the mutant. This time, the mutant no longer had the energy to fend off the enraged canine and Dogmeat made quick work of the rest of his neck and face.

In the meantime, Albert and Ian were frantically switching between firing off rounds and taking evasive action as the other super mutant's laser rifle made quick work of whatever cover they could find. The mutant had, by that point, suffered multiple bullet wounds but was still marching steadily towards them. If they didn't take him down soon, he would be right on top of them. There would be no avoiding his weapon then.

Just as the mutant reached the pavement on the other side of the road, he was hit by more gunfire, this time from Natalia and Tycho who had heard their fight and come to their assistance. Standing atop the roof of the building, Natalia had one of her Desert Eagles held firmly in both hands as she calmly but accurately fired off .44 rounds across the span of the courtyard, right into the mutant's head. Coming around from the side of the building, Tycho fired two slugs from his shotgun. Where the lighter rounds from Albert's assault rifle and Ian's SMG could only slowly wear down the super mutant, the shotgun's shells made a much more serious impact. The first missed; the second punched a hole into one of the mutant's hands.

The mutant grunted in pain as he lost two fingers on his left hand. Without the support of his hand, the barrel of his rifle sagged and his next shot hit the ground several yards ahead of him. Realizing his predicament, the mutant turned and fled back to the lobby of the watershed.

'After him! Don't let him get back to cover!' Albert shouted as he broke from the safety of the restaurant, all the while firing short bursts into the mutant's back. Ian followed behind him. Alex rose to his feet but the shock of having just lost an ear _and _part of a finger was too much and he stumbled. 'Stay in the restaurant!' Albert called to him, noticing the state of the younger man's injuries. 'Dogmeat! Stay! Guard!' he commanded. Dogmeat, who had turned the other fallen mutant's head into an unrecognizable mess of tissue and muscle, left his kill and trotted over to Alex's side.

While Tycho reloaded his shotgun, Natalia raced across the length of the rooftop of the watershed, firing off shots at the retreating super mutant with the laser rifle. The mutant exchanged fire with Natalia, using his one good hand to operate the laser rifle as if it were a handgun. But without his other hand to support the barrel, all his shots went wide.

By the time the mutant reached the lobby entrance, he was so heavily injured that he could barely take another step. Making her way across the L-shape of the watershed and over to the lobby area of the rooftop, Natalia fired the last shot directly down into the top of the super mutant's head. The mutant groaned and collapsed just outside the doorway.

The gunfire stopped and, for a moment, all they could hear were the echoes of the last gunshots. But it was a silence that wasn't to last.

Not too far from where Natalia stood, two muscular green arms burst through the roof from below. Although the mutant below had misjudged Natalia's location, his grip on the crumbling rooftop was firm. With a growl and a heaving tug, the mutant pulled down on the drywall, mortar, and internal metal frame. Almost a third of the rooftop bent and gave way. Natalia had only enough time to turn her attentions to this new threat when the floor beneath her collapsed and she found herself tumbling down into the lobby.

'Natalia!' both Albert and Ian shouted in panic as they watched their friend fall through the broken roof. As they raced to the main lobby entrance to reach her, Tycho made a quick judgment call. If Albert and Ian were going up face-to-face against the two other mutants inside, they might find themselves outmatched. With the intention on attacking the mutants from the back, Tycho headed back to the rear entrance of the building where Natalia and himself had taken down the first super mutant.

* * *

><p>As the debris settled, Natalia groaned at the throbbing pain in her ankle. She looked down and saw that a fallen section of the ceiling had somehow handed on her leg. She detected movement right beside her and turned to find, to her great alarm, the mutant who had brought down the ceiling rising to his feet. Fallen mortar cascaded of his back as he pushed himself up. Through the settling dust, Natalia suddenly realized that the mutant wasn't a he. It was a she. Even with the severe mutation, the oversized facial features, and the overly muscular chest, Natalia could tell that this… thing had once been a female human being.<p>

Natalia searched frantically for her gun but found it missing. The other Desert Eagle was still in its holster but was pinned under the leg that had been buried by pieces of the collapsed ceiling. As Natalia looked up again, she saw the mutant bearing down on her with her two huge arms. Natalia knew what that note from the Lieutenant to Set had said, but this particular mutant seemed to have gone beyond wanting to take her "unharmed".

Suddenly remembering the cattle prod, Natalia reached behind her belt and found the handle. Arching her body of the ground to create the space needed to draw the weapon, Natalia pulled out the cattle prod, thumbed the switch, and let the weapon fly just as the mutant's giant fingers reached for her neck. The visible arcs of electricity leapt from the cattle prod to the mutants fingers. There was a small explosion as the weapon came into contact and the super mutant howled as two of her fingers were suddenly dislocated from the jolt. Smoke rose from her fingers as she surveyed the damage in amazement.

Without giving the mutant another opportunity to recover, Natalia brought the cattle prod down onto the back of the mutant's closest knee. Mutant or no, the electric jolt blasted the ligaments to shreds and obliterated the nerves. Losing control over her leg, the mutant came crashing forward, her head unintentionally coming straight down onto Natalia's.

At the last moment, Natalia swung the cattle prod once more, connecting with the mutant's ear. With another crackle of energy, the side of the mutant's head burst open. The impact blasted the mutant aside, saving Natalia from what would otherwise have been a fatal head butt but showering her with mutant brains instead. Realizing how close she had come to being human paste, Natalia dropped her weapon and gave a long sigh of relief.

Albert and Ian entered the lobby just in time to see the female mutant go down. Spotting Natalia in the fallen rubble, they rushed to her aid, removing as much debris as they could as quickly as possible.

They had only just moved the final piece of rubble when they heard heavy footsteps coming their way from the corridor leading further into the building from the lobby.

'Last one,' Albert commented, as he pulled a battered Natalia to her feet. With her injuries, both men knew they wouldn't all be able to get to safe distance in time. They saw the heavy boot of the last mutant clear the doorway to the corridor beyond.

'Get her out of here! I'll hold him!' yelled Ian.

Albert dropped his rifle and, with one quick heave, lifted Natalia up into his arms. The two of them had just made it to the doorway when the last mutant entered fully into the lobby. Ian let loose with the last rounds of his SMG. The super mutant's head jerked back as his face got peppered with 10mm rounds from the submachine gun. Then Ian's SMG clicked empty. The mutant lowered his head, his face bleeding from multiple wounds and one eye destroyed from a stray bullet, and grinned.

'My turn,' his voice boomed, and he raised his own weapon – a large, bulky device carried at waist-level with a narrow funnel-shaped mouth and a long tube attaching the weapon to a large canister of some sort slung around the mutant's back.

'Oh, shit!' said Ian, realizing at the last moment exactly what he was staring at. He leapt to the side as a searing blaze of liquid flame sprayed out from the flamethrower's nozzle. From where he was standing, Albert saw the stream of flame divide the room in two, cutting off all sight of Ian. Then the mutant aimed the flamethrower in his and Natalia's direction.

'Go!' Ian screamed as he dropped his empty SMG and raced instead towards Albert's fallen assault rifle. Diving for the weapon, Ian rolled and came to his feet with the rifle in hand. Firing off a dozen rounds wasn't enough to stop the mutant, but it _was _enough to get his attention.

Albert leapt out of the doorway with Natalia in his arms as a second gout of flame turned the lobby into a fiery tomb. Ian screamed in defiance as he squeezed off the last few rounds in the assault rifle's magazine. Then the stream of flame hit him with full force and his screams took on a different tone.

'IAN!' Natalia yelled, echoing Albert's own unvocalized thoughts as he carried the two of them away from the intense heat at his back and out of the watershed. In the courtyard, Albert and Natalia turned to watch in horror through the lobby entrance as the former merchant guard stumbled around blindly, engulfed in flames. From across the street, Alex was just as transfixed at the sight of a man burning to death. Ian staggered randomly around until he finally hit the far wall of the lobby and crumpled to the ground, his body still blazing.

If there was one thing that broke Albert from the spectacle, it was the reminder that Ian had still been carrying both his frag grenades. Turning from the horrible sight, Natalia still in his arms, Albert sprinted as fast as he could in the direction of the restaurant. The mutant, in the meantime, had moved over to Ian's body, planning to finish him off once and for all. But he hadn't been counting on the grenades.

As he reached Ian, the first grenade went off. Then the second. The mutant hollered in pain as hundreds of bits of shrapnel peppered his body. Ian's body, in the meantime, already severely charred by the flames, was shredded to pieces by the grenades.

The mutant reeled, his face and body so badly carved up by the shrapnel that he looked more like a piece of raw meat than a living humanoid creature. Wiping the blood from his eyes, he spotted Albert and Natalia through the doorway. Growling in pain, he plucked some metallic debris out of the barrel of the flamethrower and lumbered towards them, clearly intending to do to them what he had just done to Ian.

The mutant was just two strides away from coming out into the courtyard when Tycho burst out of the corridor behind him. He aimed his shotgun at the canister still hanging from the mutant's back and fired both slugs. The first just made a very noisy ping as it punctured the canister. The second caused a spark – a spark that set the mutant's entire reserve of flamethrower fuel on fire.

In an instant the mutant become a blazing inferno. He howled as his skin was doused with burning liquid. Yet, even with his body in flames, a part of his brain still managed to focus his attentions on Tycho. Tycho's self-satisfied expression turned to shock as he realized he was about to be bulldozed by a flaming hulk. Turning, he fled down the corridor with the burning mutant in hot pursuit.

Even with the excruciating pain he was no doubt experiencing, the mutant was still gaining. Tycho burst out of the corridor and into the larger room through which he had first passed after entering through the back entrance of the building. With just inches separating himself and the mutant behind him, Tycho made his second mutant-evading leap of the day.

Blinded by the flames, the mutant carried on forward, barreling blindly into a large piece of machinery in the corner of the room with enough force to cause a large dent in one of its side panels. Halted by the impact, the mutant stumbled and fell, never to rise again.

* * *

><p>After the intense battle they had been through, the silence that came after was almost deafening.<p>

Albert lowered Natalia and dropped heavily to the ground beside her. What had just happened still had his brain reeling. Natalia and Alex were as stunned as he was. Tycho came running up to him.

'Children…' Albert gasped wearily.

'What?' said Tycho.

'Children… of the Cathedral,' Albert said again. 'Alex and Natalia need medical attention.'

As the only one who hadn't been around to be visually traumatized by Ian's death, Tycho raced over to the mall across the street where the Children of the Cathedral had set up shop. Finding the place was easy – it was the only occupied and lit store in the building. But what he found was far from what he had expected.

When he entered their shop, Tycho found the two members of the Children, still dressed in their brown hooded robes, frantically packing their supplies into two large travel haversacks.

'Wait, what are you doing?' he said in utter confusion.

'We need to leave,' one of the Children said without looking up from her packing.

'Leave?' Tycho couldn't believe his ears. 'No! Wait, we need help. There are injured people outside.'

'I'm sorry, we can't help you,' said the man.

'We have to get out of here,' said the woman. 'It's no longer safe here.'

'No longer… what the hell are you talking about?' Tycho was flabbergasted. 'You were working right next to a squad of killer super mutants! They're not there anymore! We took them out! This place is _ten times _safer than it was yesterday!'

'We have nothing left to say to you,' said the woman with a surprisingly cold edge to her voice.

'Fine,' Tycho relented, still totally confused. 'Then at least give me some of your medical supplies for my friends.'

'Take what you like,' said the woman. 'We can't carry everything.'

With that, she secured the haversack and lifted it onto her shoulders. 'Come on, let's get out of here while there's still time,' she said to the man.

Back outside, Tycho brought the supplies over to Alex and Natalia who had converged in the courtyard. While he treated them, Albert tottered over to the lobby. He was just about to step over the body of the armored super mutant when the mutant flinched. A large hand grabbed hold of his ankle, nearly giving him a heart attack.

Reacting quickly, Albert reached for his knife and was about to plunge it into the mutant's hand when the mutant released his hold.

'You… not ghoul,' the mutant groaned weakly as blood seeped freely from the dozens of bullet holes in his body. 'Orders say not-ghoul, not enter.'

'Who's giving you orders?' Albert asked.

'Lou… tell me watch place,' came the reply. Albert could only guess that Lou was short for "Lieutenant." 'Not let no one in,' the mutant continued with more difficulty. 'Not normals most. Take normals to the Lou…'

'Normals?' Albert said. 'You mean, people like us?'

'Pure-strain,' the mutant explained, his voice growing rapidly weaker. 'You normal. You… not go in…You go… to… Lou…'

The mutant's voice was, by that point, so weak that Albert knew he wasn't going to get any more out of him.

'I've got a better idea,' Albert said, picking up the fallen laser rifle from the mutant's side. 'How about "Not let you live"?' Albert placed the long barrel against the mutant's forehead, spared a quick thought for Ian, and squeezed the trigger. He heard the familiar rush of energy and kept the trigger pressed down as a beam of red laser carved a hole into the mutant's head. Albert turned the barrel up so that the hole became a line that split the mutant's head in two. Then the rifle made a beeping noise as it reached its overheating capacity and Albert released the trigger.

With the last mutant dead, Albert slung the laser rifle over his shoulders and stepped into the lobby. Inside, it was a warzone. Not only was there a huge chunk of rubble where the super mutant had brought the roof down, but there were also small fires all over the place still brightly burning.

Albert moved over to where he had seen Ian fall and had to turn his gaze away. There was nothing left – or at least nothing in any shape or form that resembled a human being. The flames and then the grenades had seen to that.

Tracing the extent of the damage, Albert found himself walking down the corridor leading away from the main lobby, his fingers trailing their way along the walls scorched by the flaming mutant's passage. At the far end, Albert found himself in a large room that spanned almost the entire east wing of the watershed. Most of the room was occupied by three large water tanks and dozens of metal barrels. Scattered on the floor were at least six ghoul corpses. Two had their heads blown off. The others had their faces smashed in. Albert ran a finger through the pooling blood of one of the corpses. It was fresh.

In the corner, directly across from the lobby and corridor was the water pump. The mutant with the flamethrower lay dead beside it, the flames in his body finally extinguished. Then Albert saw the dent in the machine where the mutant had collided with it. From the dented panel, a small but steady trail of smoke was rising.

'Ah, crap,' Albert swore. This was going to complicate matters with Set and the ghouls.

'Hey!' he heard a voice from behind a barred window at the far end of the room next to a large staircase that led down into the basement. Albert snatched the laser rifle from his back and aimed it at the face of the ghoul that appeared behind the bars.

Walking over, Albert speculated that the room behind which the ghoul was trapped had probably functioned as some kind of security office of some sort. Seeing as to how it was right beside the staircase that presumably led down to the vault, Albert guessed this had been where some kind of final transaction was to take place before the prospective vault dweller was allowed entry into the underground shelter below. But whatever its former function, it was now just the prison of a ghoul frantically trying to get his attention.

'What do you want?' asked Albert sternly, pointing the barrel of the rifle at the ghoul's head.

'I want out, of course,' the ghoul replied.

'Why are you locked in there?'

'I stole some water.' Albert didn't know what to make of that and frowned. 'Hey, I was thirsty!' the ghoul protested, his voice a rapid staccato. 'It wasn't like I hurt somebody. I would've died without the water. It was only a cupful. Just enough to keep me alive. Those super mutants were just assholes. They must have thought I was a spy or something. Probably saved my life. Otherwise they might've just smashed my head into a pulp. You gotta get me out of here! I'm going insane!'

'Hold on a minute,' Albert said, stunned by the ghoul's volubility and hyperactive persona. 'Are you with Set or Kane?'

'Set? Kane? I'm not with anybody. I'm just trying to survive.'

'Let me rephrase,' said Albert. 'Do you live on the surface or in the sewers?'

'Oh, that. On the surface.'

'Are you going to attack me if I let you out?'

'What? No. Of course not. Why would I do that?'

'Because almost every other surface ghoul has tried to do just that.'

'I'm different.'

'Do you know what happened to these ghouls here?' Albert indicated the ghoul corpses littering the floor.

'Sure. A bald man with a shotgun came in. These ghouls chased after him. He gunned two down, killed the rest up close. Used the shotgun like a baseball bat.'

'Why didn't you ask _him _to let you out?'

'Are you kidding? After what he did to my kind?'

'How do you know I'm not the same?'

The ghoul paused. 'Are you the same?'

'No, but if I'm going to let you out, I need answers.'

'Answers? Sure. I can give you answers. What do you want to know?'

'That pump just got wrecked. Is there any way to fix it?'

'Fix it? You want to… you want to help us?'

'Just answer the question.'

'Why, well, there are spare parts. Parts below. In the basement.'

'Good. I—'

'You may want to be careful, though. Glowing ones. Not happy with anyone who goes down there. Not even us. Us ghouls just leave them alone.'

Albert gave the ghoul one more appraising look before deciding to let him out.

'Alright, I'm opening the door,' he told the ghoul. 'But just keep in mind. My friends and I just wiped out six super mutants. Don't even think of trying anything.'

'No, of course not,' the ghoul agreed. 'Won't try a thing.'

'Alright. Stand back.' Albert aimed the barrel of the rifle at the door lock and squeezed of a beam of laser which cut through the lock like butter. The door swung open.

'Thank you! Thank you!' the ghoul squealed gratefully. 'I could hug you.'

'Don't. Even. Think about it,' Albert warned, warily eyeing the ghoul's mutated flesh. 'Now get out of here.'

The ghoul gave a slight nod and then danced off with his newfound freedom through the rear door of the building. Albert shook his head and headed back out to the courtyard.

By the time he reached, Tycho had patched up both Alex and Natalia. The good news for Alex was that his wounds had been cauterized by the laser, effectively preventing any overt loss of blood. The bad news was that the cauterized wounds made it virtually impossible for his lost ear and upper pinkie to be stitched back. He was going to be scarred for life. As for Natalia, she was bruised, but the worst injury she had suffered was a twisted ankle. Given a few days, she would be fit for active walking again.

As for the shock of Ian's sudden death, they seemed to be coping well given the circumstances. Both Alex and Natalia were still stunned, but neither were paralyzed by the shock. Natalia had been through a lot already, and this was, by far, the worst, but it looked as though she was going to pull through. As for Alex, he was apparently hardier than he looked. Not only had he overcome the shock of being shot for the first time in his life _and _losing both an ear and part of a finger, but he had also processed the death of Ian with quiet reserve.

'We'd best get indoors,' said Albert to his tired group of friends. 'There's no telling when the rest of the city's ghouls might show up.'

'I think we may already be too late for that,' Natalia noted. Everyone turned to see where she was looking. At the corner of the courtyard, a small group of ghouls had gathered. And they looked hungry.

'Ah, give me a break. Aren't you people supposed to be sleeping right now?' Tycho said wearily, as he cracked open the barrels of his shotgun and reloaded the weapon. Albert readied his weapon. Natalia drew her one remaining pistol. Alex tried to get a handle on his own Desert Eagle with his left hand. Dogmeat snarled. They were all battered from their earlier battle, but none were willing to go down without a fight. They had come this far at too high a cost. Ian's sacrifice had proved that. They weren't going to back down now.

'Other side,' Tycho warned. They turned to see another group gathering at the other corner of the courtyard.

'Into the watershed. Quick!' said Albert, slinging Natalia's arm over his shoulder and preparing to raise her to her feet.

'Wait!' Natalia interjected.

'What?' asked Albert.

'They're just… standing there.'

Everyone looked again. Sure enough. The ghouls looked hungry and hostile, but they weren't doing anything. As more and more ghouls gathered, Albert saw a single familiar looking ghoul emerge from the growing crowd.

'Set,' he said. 'Aren't you up a little early?' he added sarcastically.

The red-eyed ghoul stepped into the courtyard, his face beaming at the sight of the fallen mutants. But because of his twisted features, no one could tell if it was meant to be a pleasant or nasty grin.

'Well done,' he rasped at Albert. 'You've earned my sight, walker.'

'So, what now?' asked Albert, his hands still firmly gripping the laser rifle.

'You get to go down to the old home,' said Set. 'As agreed.' He beckoned to two of his ghouls. One of them was Garret. 'Secure the watershed,' he said. 'And clear these… things away,' he said, glancing disdainfully at the corpse of the nearest super mutant.

'There is… one slight problem,' Albert said as he watched Garret and the other ghoul step into the remains of the main lobby. He turned back to Set. 'Part of the water pump was damaged in the fight.'

'Hrm,' Set made a grumbling nose. 'That will cause… issues.'

Calling a few more ghouls to his side, Set told Albert to show him the damage.

Inside the room with the water tanks, Albert showed him the hole in one of the pump's side panels.

'I met a ghoul whom the super mutants had locked up over there.' He pointed to the room with the barred windows. 'He told me there are spare parts in the basement but the… "glowing ones" might not be happy about us going down there.'

'If the old home is where you wish to tread, the glowing ones' skin will crawl regardless,' said Set. 'You were honest about this,' he waved at the damaged pump. 'Rare to see such in the wasteland, especially from normies.'

Albert nodded, noting that he had just uncharacteristically received a compliment from Set, backhanded though it may have been.

'Can this be fixed?' asked Set.

'I…' Albert wasn't sure what to say. He had been hoping Set would know.

'I can,' Alex said, walking over to the damaged panel. Fishing into his utility belt, he pulled out a toolkit no one ever knew he had brought with him. He gave a quick look at the three panels on the side of the water pump, then pried open the damaged one. 'A couple of wires need splicing and replacing, and the power cell's shot,' he said almost immediately. 'But these are pretty basic parts. If the storage room downstairs has replacements, and I'm guessing it should, I can have this thing up and running in thirty minutes.' He paused and looked down at his injured hand. 'Make that fifty.'

'Good,' said Set. 'Then my ghouls will escort you below to retrieve the parts.'

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Alex was hard at work as the rest watched on in fascination at the display of skill he had hitherto left undemonstrated and untested. All of them were impressed.<p>

'You made a good call bringing him along,' Natalia confided softly to Albert.

'Thanks,' Albert answered gratefully. 'How are you doing?'

Natalia sighed and glanced down at her feet. Then she looked Albert in the eyes.

'Not well,' she admitted. 'I'm not sure if I can ever get over what happened. But… I'll manage.'

'Good,' said Albert and gave her a quick side-hug. 'Ian's sacrifice is why we're able to stand here now, moments away from getting that water chip. He wasn't one of us, but he certainly did the most for us.'

'I'm glad he got to see the Vault before…' Natalia's voice trailed away.

'I am too,' said Albert. 'We'll make sure his actions are remembered.'

Set chose that moment to step up beside Albert, joining the group of spectators – ghoul and human alike – who had gathered to watch Alex at work. Unnerved by his presence, Natalia shifted away and over to Tycho where they ended up getting into a conversation about his past experiences as a ranger.

'We've been straight with you,' Albert said to Set who, despite the time of day, seemed to be in a very good mood. 'I think it's time you were straight with us. We deserve some information.'

'Fine. Fast. What?' Set responded with a little irritation creeping into his voice.

'You wouldn't do the mutants yourself. With the size of your army, you could have taken _six_ with little problem. I ask myself why. Answer, someone has you scared. Why?'

'I don't tremble,' Set retorted. 'Use the tools of the time. You're used, you're rewarded, you're walking.'

'I saw the note in your storage room last night,' said Albert. 'At first I wasn't sure if you were setting us up. But you were straight with us too. You didn't rat us out to the mutants.'

'Normies are a plague,' said Set. 'But the muties are worse. They stomp my shadow.'

'And they work for this Lieutenant?'

Set made a sour face which, on his mutated features, created what appeared to be a ghastly grimace. 'One day, he too will tombstone,' Set growled. 'Just as his muties did this day.'

'And what of this "Master" you mentioned?'

'You don't watch your back, you'll wear his knife, he'll wear your skin,' Set said forebodingly. 'His mutants shadow the wasteland, especially south of here. His lieutenant walks to the northwest.'

'So there are _two _bases of operations,' said Albert.

'I've spouted enough,' said Set, becoming taciturn.

'Look, I understand,' Albert pushed. 'He's a threat to you. But he's also a threat to me and my people. His super mutants have been kidnapping people from the Hub. And that means none of us "normals" are safe. He's our problem too. You can talk to me.'

Set appeared to give it some thought before speaking.

'The Necropolis was mine,' he said as he and Albert continued watching Alex work. 'Not an all-things-great, but a straight-place for my kind. No hateful normies to stick us in the back. Then the Master showed. Him and his muties.' Set paused, finding it difficult to say the next few words. 'He could've fragged me good,' he said finally, 'but it was easy for him to just stand some muties and keep an eye on. Use us in his search for normies.'

'But why?' asked Albert. 'Why is he kidnapping normals?'

Set shrugged. 'Ask_ him_, should you stand in his shadow. Though that will end your walk, no doubt.'

'Isn't anyone doing anything about this?'

Set shook his head and gave a rueful smile. 'No one can push his shadow now.'

'Got it!' Alex declared suddenly. He slapped the panel close, walked over to the controls, fiddled with the buttons before pulling on the single lever. The massive pump groaned as it struggled to life. In a few seconds, there came the gentle but constant and reassuring hum of working machinery.

Set gave a stern nod of approval. 'Now for yours,' he said to Albert.

* * *

><p>Five minutes later, they were all being escorted down the staircase and through a tunnel that led to the vault. They couldn't believe it. They were finally there. This was the closest they had ever come to a water chip. And now it was finally within their grasp. The walk down the tunnel to the large and familiar cog-shaped outer door was both exhilarating and, at the same time, reminiscent of going back to their own home in Vault-13 .<p>

Two glowing ghouls – the same kind Albert and the rest had seen back in Set's Halls of the Dead – stood as sentries at the large outer door.

'You tread without permission,' said one of the ghouls.

Set walked up to them.

'My shadow now runs deep into the earth,' he declared. 'And it is my permission that grants entry here. No longer yours.'

The glowing ghoul gave a defiant look and, for the longest moment, both ghouls stared each other down in silence. But it soon became clear how Set had come to power on the surface. He spoke and bore himself with authority and it was an authority that this half-naked glowing ghoul could not challenge. He backed down and everyone was allowed passage.

Inside, the place was dark and it was only by the light of torches Set's ghouls had brought along that the vault dwellers and Tycho could see where they were going.

The architecture was similar, indeed almost identical, to Vault-13's, but the place looked bare. Whatever scavenging the ghouls had done when they had left the vault years earlier had been thorough. The vault dwellers were left wondering how anything of value could possibly remain.

They reached the elevator and Set and two of his ghouls joined them in the car. To their great surprise the lifts apparently still worked – a huge step up over Vault-15. Down at the operations level, Set led them through the corridors to the CCC. Along the way, they passed other glowing ghouls. The ghouls gave the "normals" unfriendly glances but a swift stare from Set cowed them. As they moved deeper into the vault, unmolested by the glowing ones, the vault dwellers couldn't help but realize the perks of being friends, or at least on relatively friendly terms, with the leader of the surface ghouls.

In the CCC, they passed a rather bizarre sight. The bones of a human corpse lay in a crumpled mess by the entrance, its clothes ripped to shreds around it.

'The glowing ones give dirt naps to any who try to make alterations,' Set explained without a glimpse at the corpse. 'Last one here tried.'

'Aren't we doing the same?' Albert asked, doing his best to conceal a shudder of revulsion. He had no doubt that the reason there were only bones left lay in the glowing ghouls' carnivorous tendencies.

'True, but you do so within the shadows I cast,' said Set. 'That fool was a sneak. Now a dead sneak.'

They walked on until they reached the control hub where the bulk of the computers were located. Everyone had to stop and just stare for a moment. They were finally here – in an operational computer hub in a functioning vault. The moment was especially poignant for Albert and Natalia who now recalled the exact image of the control room in that tech manual they had read all those weeks ago when they had first left Vault-13.

Set glanced expectantly at the vault dwellers.

'Do you know what you seek?' he asked, interrupting them from their reverie.

Both Albert and Natalia had read the technical manuals and knew what to look for, but it would take time. Even Natalia, with her amazing memory, had to give each of the computers a good long look.

'I do,' Alex said abruptly, interrupting Albert and Natalia's attempts to locate the computer.

'I'm impressed,' said Albert. 'You see, you _do _belong on this team.'

Alex smiled gratefully, then stepped into the circle of computers. He gave a cursory look at the various control panels before his gaze settled on the water processing control computer. With his tools, he got the front panel open and, pulling out a vertically-oriented tray of computer chips and drives, cast his glance around until he found what he was looking for.

'There it is,' he said with bated breath. Albert and Natalia couldn't help but stare at the tiny computer chip at which Alex was pointing. Such a small, nondescript object, no bigger than a human thumb, yet something for which they had travelled hundreds of miles, suffered multiple wounds, and lost friends. It was this tiny object that they had killed and bargained and worked so hard for – the key, as it were, to the waters of life.

'We're almost there,' Alex said prophetically. He moved over to the keyboard and entered in a few commands. One by one the lights on the computer screen blinked off as the water purification computer shutdown. As the last light dimmed, everyone heard the repaired water pump begin chugging away in the distance, bringing water up from the deep wells further down in the vault. Alex reached down to the water chip and gently plucked it from its slot. Then he took the padded container that Albert handed him and planted the chip firmly and securely in place before sliding the container into one of the pockets in his utility belt. He looked up at them and gave a weary smile.

'We're going home,' he said.


	17. Chapter 16: No Place Like Home

In 2 weeks time, I'll be out of the country for a month. I may be very prolific during that month. But it's also possible that I may also not write a single thing then. So I'm at least going to get this chapter out, maybe another, before I leave.

Once again, the vault dwellers are off the hook from the main plot for awhile in this chapter. And if you've been reading all the chapters up to this point, you'll probably realize that those moments are usually the ones when there's explicit character development opportunities (although if I were a better writer, I suspect I'd be able to do both seamlessly at the same time).

I originally had a few paragraphs that dealt with the issue of religion. If you read this chapter early, you may have seen it. I wanted to keep it at first because I thought it was a realistic issue that people would grapple with in a post-apocalyptic setting. I still think that. However, after looking it over again, I realized the conversation was much too abruptly intellectualized and didn't feel natural. I still do want to tackle that issue, at least briefly, at some point in the future. But I think there's a much more natural setting I can use for that. So, for now, I've drastically cut the conversation short to maintain the feel of the situation without going off on an overly theoretical tangent.

**Chapter Sixteen: No Place Like Home**

Although the vault dwellers were eager to return home, Natalia's sprained ankle put a dampener on their plans. Set was still reluctant to spread around the word that they were on his side to the other ghouls in the city. Necropolis wasn't a top priority location to the super mutants – not too many humans passed this way – but just in case the super mutants decided to check up on the missing team of six, Set wanted to make sure no blame could placed on his people.

'So on the off-chance that they return, you're going to pin the blame on us,' Albert had said.

'Yes,' had been the blunt reply. Set had been grateful for their help but he also had his people's best interests at heart. Regaining control of the water had proven that, but so had the arrangements he had made to make sure nothing could be linked back to him. If the super mutants returned in force, he could just tell them some heavily armed "normies" had stormed the watershed, killed the mutants, and then made off with the ghouls' own vault equipment. Albert didn't like that Set was ready to sell them out at a moment's notice, but he also didn't blame the ghoul leader. If the dire situation had been reversed, Albert couldn't guarantee he wouldn't have done the same.

In any case, both Set and Albert wanted the vault dwellers and their companions gone from the city as soon as possible. Since that wasn't exactly possible with Natalia's current state, the next best solution was to have them moved back to the hotel on the outskirts of Necropolis. Most of the ghouls who had a fancy for human flesh avoided that area – too many armed merchant groups passing through. It was the safest place, at least from the ghouls. Plus, the group needed fresh food supplies if they wanted to conserve their travel rations. For that they needed access to the caravans that arrived every other week. In addition to all that, the super mutants at the watershed had never gotten wise to the caravan deals Set had been making with the Crimson Caravan over at the Hub. Being adequately distant from Set's main headquarters, the hotel where the merchants did their trading was too isolated and far removed for the super mutants to notice. Anyone seeing caravans moving along the outskirts of Necropolis would just assume they were headed further northwest to the nearby Brotherhood of Steel encampment. Who would want to stopover in the City of the Dead, after all? Certainly, given time, the super mutants may have noticed, but their occupation of the watershed had been recent – mere weeks. It was little wonder Set had wanted them gone as soon as possible.

While they bided their time at the hotel, waiting for Natalia's ankle to heal and the next caravan to arrive, the members of the group tried to occupy themselves as best they could. No one had ever seen a laser rifle before or even known such a thing could exist, but Tycho had had past experiences with long-range hunting rifles and proceeded to teach Albert how to pick off targets at range. Hitting a bottle at over 3000 feet was insanely difficult to begin with, but it was still relatively more doable than using any other kind of rifle due to the lack of recoil. All Albert had to get used to was the cumbersome extended barrel, the need for a sustained, steady aim (not an easy feat owing to the rifle's heavy extended barrel), and a good shooting stance.

Natalia, in the meanwhile, confined in her movements by her injured ankle, spent most of the time indoors. With nothing much to do, she ended up spending hours playing cards with a number of unlikely game partners – long-term ghoul residents of the hotel who had fewer carnivorous tendencies than their other surface-dwelling compatriots. It took awhile but Alex soon joined them in their daily poker matches.

In the end, what mattered was that they had things to do to occupy themselves while they waited, at least during the day. The undesirable alternative, of course, was to slip back into recent memories centering around Ian's parting and the manner in which it had happened. Although none of them had been psychologically or emotionally crippled by the horrible tragedy, none wanted to revisit the memory of burning human flesh. Furthermore, thinking about Ian only made them think also about Stone, which then got them thinking about the heavy price this quest for the water chip had exacted from them.

But avoiding the memories continuously was impossible. Eventually, it got too dark to use the laser rifle. Eventually, cards got boring. Eventually, the members of the group had to retire from their daytime activities. In order to sustain the unspoken agreement to turn attentions as much as possible to other matters, they got to having longer and longer conversations with one another.

For Alex, Albert became his new go-to-person for advice. To Alex, Albert was just like him except more experienced. They had both been top scorers in the Vault's survival test program, albeit with strengths in different areas. And they both had started out not knowing anything practical about self-defense.

Alex's chance to shine at the watershed had given him a boost of confidence and, all of sudden, this crazy wasteland full of cannibal ghouls, giant mutants, and terrifying deathclaws no longer seemed quite as overwhelming as it had initially. While he recognized he was still the least proficient at protecting himself compared to any of the others, he had now reclaimed his former optimism about life on the outside. The doubts he had temporarily entertained, about whether it was actually a good idea to pressure the Overseer to let the vault dwellers out onto the surface, were gone.

In Albert's case, the opposite was happening. He had accepted Ian's death, almost as smoothly as Stone's. He didn't feel good about any of it, but he had already come to the sobering realization that this was the way of the wasteland. It would claim lives sooner or later. There was no way around it. His dedication to fighting for the vault dwellers' rights to leave Vault-13 was as strong as ever but his own uncertainty towards whether he himself would want to leave Vault-13 or stay was now leaning more towards the latter. It was hard for him to place his finger on something about the outside world that he actually liked. Even Shady Sands – a place full of people working together to build a better future for themselves – was plagued by troublemakers from the outside. All he wanted now was to return to simple life in the Vault, at least for the time being, where the decisions he made about right and wrong, action and inaction, didn't have to lead to potentially fatal consequences.

For Natalia, she had managed to deal with the two deaths in the group enough for her to operate without turning into another emotional wreck. But deep down, she knew that both those deaths were linked to her. Stone had died because of circumstances created by a decision she had made. Ian, in turn, had died so Albert could get her out of harm's way. She didn't want to talk to her two vault dweller companions about it. Alex was, well, Alex. He wasn't quite as big a prick as she had initially made him out to be. And he was closest in age to her so there were at least somethings with which the two of them could relate. But he was also just a kid.

As for Albert, she had already fallen apart in front of him once already and then almost a second time again with Stone. He had a difficult enough time struggling with his own challenges as leader. She didn't need or want him to be the one to comfort her. Also she couldn't read him. He seemed to be growing colder and more calculating about the decisions he made, but every now and there was that glimmer of compassion that he showed towards her. Natalia didn't know what to make of that and it bugged the hell out of her.

And that left…

'Tycho,' Natalia said in surprise as she turned the corner on the fourth floor to get to the hotel room assigned to her while they waited for the next caravan to arrive. Tycho was standing at the end of the corridor, looking out the window onto a darkened Necropolis. He turned and gave a small smile. In the light of the single small candle that was responsible for providing illumination to the entire corridor, his features were barely visible. 'I didn't expect to see you up at this time,' she said.

'You asked me before if I was religious,' he said, turning his attention back outside. Natalia realized she had caught him in a pensive mood. She walked over and joined him at the window. Outside they could hear the collective moaning and growling of the city as the ghouls were once again awake and hungry. 'It's difficult sometimes,' he said. 'Looking at all this… it's sometimes difficult to believe in something greater.'

'But you _do _believe in a great power then,' Natalia deduced.

'I do,' he replied, 'but I can tell you that that conviction gets challenged every damned day in this wasteland.'

'Did you get your beliefs from your family? Your parents?'

'Sure did. Almost everyone in my family tree, back to several generations before the War, was either a missionary or a soldier. Some both.'

'Militant missionaries?' Natalia joked.

Tycho chuckled. 'At different points in their lives,' he corrected himself.

'Sounds a little paradoxical, if you ask me,' said Natalia.

'Why so?' Tycho challenged. 'Not all soldiers are in it for the violence or even the honor and prestige. Some do it because they honestly believe in fighting for the safety of those who aren't in a position to do the same. Similarly, not all missionaries do what they do just to prove others wrong. Many do it because they honestly believe they're helping others.'

'And what do you believe?'

'I believe I wasn't made out to be a missionary, if that's what you're asking. But that's not the only way to express your convictions.'

'So this is where you get all your patriotism and idealism, then? Your belief in something greater? Something worth fighting for?'

'You could say that. Ian didn't…' he let his voice trail away. He had been about to make a self-deprecatory joke about the idealism Ian had implicitly accused him of. But the name had already escape his lips. 'I'm sorry,' he said. Natalia shook her head to brush off the statement, her gaze still on the city outside the window. 'No, I mean I'm sorry… I'm sorry I didn't get there in time,' said Tycho.

'No,' Natalia turned and looked him in the eye, trying to stop him from going any further. 'I know those ghouls tried to chase after you. You don't have to—'

'I was supposed to come in and save him. If I had only been just a few seconds—'

'Don't!' Natalia had to turn away again as the tears sprung to her eyes. Memories of the flames surged once more into view. And she could hear Ian screaming again. Screaming like no human being should, suffering like no human being should. Ian had been there for her back when Stone had passed away. And now she would never get a chance to return the favor in any shape or form. She hadn't even thanked him.

Natalia could feel it coming again. That need for an emotional release. But not this time. She couldn't let it happen this time. Not again. She took several deep breaths, wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffed once, and turned back to face Tycho.

'Swore I wouldn't do that again,' she said apologetically.

'It's not wrong to mourn the loss of a good friend,' Tycho countered her apology. 'You don't have to deaden yourself to the bad things that happen around you. That's what makes you human.'

'Seems to be working well for Albert. And _he _still seems to be holding onto his principles.'

'And I hope he continues to do so. But this is just thebeginning. If he keeps shutting himself off from his emotions, it may end up twisting him up inside just a little each time. I worry about what he might turn into if he keeps responding that way to every next bad thing that happens. And I think a part of him realizes it too.'

'What do you recommend, then? How do you cope with all this… this…' Natalia had to bite into her finger nail to stop her from breaking down again.

Tycho pulled her hand gently from her mouth with both of his and looked her in the eye. 'You turn to those who care about you,' he said. Natalia looked a little confused. 'In case you haven't realized,' he said, '_all_ us guys are still just a little bit traditionalistic. We can't help but be a little protective over the only lady in the group.' Tycho caught himself and frowned. 'I hope that wasn't too… paternalistic,' he said self-consciously, drawing a chuckle from Natalia. She reached out and gave him a warm and friendly hug. It started out as just a light, casual hug but turned into a deeper, protracted one. It was a hug they suddenly both realized they each had needed. Against the trauma of all the death and violence and misery, human contact was a remarkable salve.

'That was sweet… in a slightly weird kind of way,' Natalia said after finally breaking contact. 'Just don't start calling me "Missy" and we'll be fine.'

Tycho gave a short laugh that was abruptly cut off as he spotted something outside the window. Frowning, he moved over and peered out to the street below. Natalia joined him.

A few blocks away, they could see what appeared to be a man running in their direction. Hot on his heels were two maddened ghouls.

Tycho was already striding back down the hallway to his own room to retrieve his shotgun. 'Tell Albert we've got trouble,' he called over his shoulder.

'What was that about paternalism?' Natalia shouted jokingly after him.

'I'll make it up to you!' he yelled back.

* * *

><p>By the time Tycho had made it out of the hotel, the two ghouls had been accompanied by two more. Why was it that of all the ghouls he had been coming across, <em>none <em>of them followed the tacit rules of the city? First the ghouls who had let hunger supersede their better judgment to avoid the watershed. Now these ghouls who were trespassing into the unofficial human-safety zone.

Tycho aimed his shotgun at the closest, hoping he wouldn't have to fire. He wasn't entirely sure if any nearby ghouls within earshot would play by the rules and stay away from the hotel or whether, like these four, their hunger would override their better judgment.

The man, spotting Tycho, put on a burst of speed, arms flailing.

'Get behind me!' Tycho shouted. The man ran past, taking refuge behind Tycho and his shotgun. The ghouls switched targets to Tycho.

Tycho was about to pull the trigger when he heard a familiar burst of energy. It wasn't quite as noisy as the explosion of gunpowder, for which Tycho was grateful. The beam came from one of the windows on the upper floors of the hotel. Albert was putting his newfound sniping skills to good use. The ghoul who got hit was clearly much more fragile than a super mutant. Albert had held the trigger long enough for the beam to slice almost three quarters of the way through the ghoul's torso. The ghoul hit the pavement almost literally in two pieces.

Surprised by the sudden evisceration of their companion, the three ghouls momentarily slowed their attack. Seizing the opportunity, Tycho moved forward, and with a quick blow, smashed the face of the nearest ghoul in with the butt of his shotgun. Dropping the weapon, he switched to his combat knife. One quick stab to the stomach of the next ghoul stunned him enough for the next swipe to slice a fatal line across his neck.

In that time, the last ghoul leapt at Tycho's back. At that proximity to Tycho, Albert couldn't get a clear shot. Tycho half turned, knowing he was going to end up with some rather nasty irradiated ghoul scratches and bites if he didn't manage to evade the attack in time. Instead, he heard the crackled of electricity as Natalia arrived on the scene, her cattle prod catching the ghoul in the midsection. The ghoul crumpled at the waist from the jolt and flew three feet before collapsing.

'Nice save,' Tycho said in thanks.

'Had to be sure you were alive to apologize for ordering me around earlier,' Natalia teased.

* * *

><p>Two minutes later, they were back in the hotel in the main lobby. The battered man in rags lay on one of the long armchairs, catching his breath from his run. Albert brought him a nuka-cola from the hotel's supplies.<p>

The man, as it turned out, was a merchant of the Crimson Caravan and had come from the Hub with his wagon and guards. Unfortunately, on the way to Necropolis, they had been attacked by a squad of armed super mutants. Having only had to face two out of six mutants with weapons, the vault dwellers knew what a whole squad could do, especially if _they _had the element of surprise.

Fortunately, the caravan had been passing through the former city of Arvin at the time which, while functioning as a good ambush spot, also provided plenty of cover to flee. When they had come under fire, the merchant had abandoned his guards and fled, concealing himself in a dumpster for hours until the mutants had finally left with most of his caravan goods and many of his people as well. Once they had left, he had travelled the remainder of the distance by himself to Necropolis in the hopes of getting some aid. He hadn't been expecting on stumbling across some random ghouls wandering the outskirts.

'How many were there?' Albert asked of the mutants.

'I don't know,' the man replied. 'We got hit from all sides. Man, the kind of firepower they were throwing…'

'I thought it was just the Far Go Traders that have been getting hit,' Natalia mused.

'The Crimson Caravan always takes the riskier routes,' the merchant replied. 'We get attacked more often so we use more heavily armed guards. But you're right. None of the caravans that have ever made their runs have ever been hit by these mutants before, at least not from a coordinated, well-armed group of them. It's been getting worse just over the past week. It's like they've been biding their time until now. All of a sudden, from targeting just one trade route covered by one of the merchant groups, these mutants seem to have popped up everywhere.'

'Has the City Council tried to do anything about it?' Albert asked.

'They're at a loss,' said the merchant. 'What can we do against that kind of weaponry? There've been talks of altering trade routes and using less frequent but more well-guarded caravans, but…'

'Why have these coordinated mutant attacks started only now?' Natalia wondered out loud. 'We heard nothing of this while we were in Shady Sands or Junktown.'

'If the growing number of missing caravans are in fact due to the mutant raids as the Far Go Traders believe,' said the merchant, 'Then this problem can't be more than a month old. I mean, we've heard stories of giant mutants before but that was from back in the day when caravans were not as well protected. Back then, one unarmed mutant was trouble. We thought we had had that problem taken care of. With our better armed caravans, we stopped getting harassed by those solitary mutants.'

'But what's _causing _this spike in mutant sightings?' Natalia clarified her earlier question.

'I can think of two reasons,' said Tycho. 'The first is that they've got a leader now. That would explain why their scattered, individual attacks have become much more organized and focused now.'

'And the second?' Alex asked.

'These mutants aren't byproducts of wasteland radiation,' said Tycho. 'They can't be. The ghouls are a testament to that. Post-War nuclear radiation shouldn't turn people into enormous hulks.'

'Well what about the radscorpions and the mole rats and every other wasteland creature that's ten times larger than it should be?' asked Albert.

'Same thing,' Tycho replied. 'I've seen plenty of radscorpions and mole rats during my time in the east. They're big and their deadly, but they're nowhere near as large as some of their counterparts on this side of the coast.'

'Wait a minute,' said Natalia. 'Are you saying—'

'I think _something_ or _someone_ is makingthem,' Tycho confided.

'Harold, the ghoul over in Old Town in the Hub, said that back when he was still running caravans, him and his people had tracked the source of the mutants to some kind of military base or something way up northwest,' Albert recalled his and Ian's conversation with Harold as he spoke. 'But, they were uncoordinated back then. Maybe someone's figured out a way to use whatever's in that base to purposefully make more of these super mutants. Maybe it's this "Lieutenant" we keep hearing about.'

'Wait, you don't think… they're _turning _their human captives into mutant soldiers are you?' Alex's eyes were wide with his sudden revelation. His hypothesis was met with silence.

'Well we can't know for sure,' Albert said eventually. 'No use speculating right now. Let's just hope they don't plan to pay a visit to this hotel anytime over the next few days.'

* * *

><p>It had only been about a month since she had last set foot in the Vault, but as Theresa reacquainted herself with all her usual haunts, it soon became clear that things were bad. Water rations had started going missing from people's rooms, people were starting to get scared, and, worst of all, just the previous day, someone had knocked the guard out in the ration supply area and stole water right out of the storage room. Several people had been accused and fights had broken out, but no one really knew who the real culprit was. To top it all off, the water ration guard had been none other than Pat's own father. Pat hadn't taken that well.<p>

Theresa had thought that the water supplies she had brought with the caravan would help ease the tensions, but that had been almost a week ago. Things had looked better for the first few days, but when people found out that this first caravan had added only ten additional days of water to their supplies, the mood of paranoia and gloom had set back in, even with reassurances that two more caravans were inbound. Even within Theresa's own "Exodus" group, the mood was dour, especially because it was some of those very supplies that had been stolen.

Theresa had to admit that Pat had been doing a wonderful job with the group. Despite the mood and the growing fears, she had managed to keep them calm and directed. Albert had been wise to pick her. _That_, at least, had been one of Albert's decisions Theresa could get behind. But with her father's recent injury, Pat was distracted. Theresa was more than happy to resume her duties as leader in Albert's absence but she needed Pat to give an official endorsement and publicly hand back the reigns in front of the entire group. The last thing they needed was strife within the group born from misinformation and misinterpretation.

At least she was easy to find. Pat had been at the EML the entire day and it was unlikely she had moved in the past few hours. Theresa caught the elevator from her floor. She and Pat had a lot to talk about, including how to coordinate the group and direct them amidst the deteriorating circumstances. Also, they needed to discuss what to do if they had to leave the Vault _before _Albert and the rest got back. _If _they got back. And then, finally, they had to figure out how to convey the plan to the rest of the group without giving away their intentions to that idiot representative of the Overseer whom Albert had admitted into the group in exchange for recruiting Alex and herself into the water chip team. But all that could wait. For now, Theresa simply needed Pat to show up at the group's meeting that evening for the handover.

The ride up in the elevator finally came to an end and the doors opened. At the sight of the two individuals in the elevator lobby, Theresa's first instinct was to reach out and stab and the "close" button. They were redheads, just like her, but where her hair color was more subdued, theirs was as orange as you could naturally get. It made them stand out from most of the other vault dwellers. Theresa had been trying to avoid them for as long as possible. But judging by their expressions, they had already spotted her. Theresa did her best to act naturally as she stepped out of the elevator and gave them a smile.

'Sandy. Sam,' she said in greeting.

'We're so glad to finally get to see you,' said Sandy. 'We've been trying to speak with you since you got back but your friends from that group of yours have been telling us you needed to recover from your wound.'

'Yes, I haven't been feeling to good,' Theresa replied. It was a lie. She was fine. The wound had healed well and barely bothered her anymore. But they didn't need to know that.

'We're sorry to hear that,' said Sandy's husband, Sam. 'You seem better now.'

'It's improving,' Theresa admitted.

'We don't want to cause you any stress,' said Sandy, 'but we were hoping you could give us some news about our son, Stone.'

Although Theresa had been expecting it, the question still hit her like a second stab to her gut. For the entire duration of the journey from the Hub back to the Vault, Theresa had been dreading this moment and rehearsing lines to feed Stone's parents. She had come up with nothing convincing. Placating people was Albert's job, not hers. Explaining to these two people why their son was dead _should_ have been hisjob. Or Natalia's. She had been the one who brought him on that suicide mission to the Deathclaw's cave after all. Theresa herself had barely even known the man.

'Your son…' she began. 'Your son was fine the last time I saw him,' she said. It wasn't a total lie. The last time she had seen him had been back in Junktown. He certainly had been fine then.

'Did he leave any message for us with you?' Sandy asked hopefully.

_No, of course he didn't leave any message! _Theresa screamed in her head in frustration. _He was already dead!_

Stilling the impulse to blurt out the truth, Theresa grinded her teeth together as she struggled to come up with something plausible.

'Your son. Max…' She paused and corrected herself, 'Stone… said to tell you two not to worry. He… He said that whatever happens, he was going to make sure he got the entire team to the water chip, wherever it might be. After my… injury… he said it was his responsibility to make sure no one else in the team got hurt.'

'Really, he said that?' Sandy said, tears of pride filling her eyes. Theresa felt incredibly dirty on the inside. But at least when the truth finally got out, they'd think of their son as a hero.

'I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid to get himself killed,' said Sam.

Theresa smiled uncomfortably. 'That's what I've been saying about Albert as well,' she shared.

'Well, I hope they all come back safely soon,' said Sandy.

'Me too,' Theresa said before quickly excusing herself.

When she was out of earshot of Stone's parents, Theresa stopped and sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow. She wasn't sure if her disingenuity had been the best course of action, but she _was _sure she had not been prepared to lay the whole truth down on them. Plus, she didn't think that kind of a stressful burden was hers to bear. That duty belonged to the team leader who, Albert had more or less made clear, was him and him alone.

Theresa reached the EML and found Pat in the waiting room. She was reading a book – an actual thousand-page pre-War paperback. She smiled when she noticed Theresa arrival and put the book down. Theresa caught a glimpse of the cover: _The Complete Adventures and Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes_.

'Where on earth did you get a tome like that?' Theresa laughed.

'It's my father's,' said Pat. 'He got me started on it when I was really young. I hadn't really touched it in years, though.'

'How is he?'

'Concussion. But he should make a full recovery.'

'Glad to hear it.'

'I want to find who did this, Theresa.'

'So do I. So does everyone.'

'I'm volunteering to accompany the security guard on duty each night when the storage room goes into lockdown.'

'Why?'

'Just in case the perpetrator decides to try again.'

'Okay, I think you've been reading a little too much Conan Doyle. It's not your job to go solving crimes and chasing down law breakers. Besides, you're not trained in self-defense.'

'Theresa, my father is lying in an emergency ward because someone hit him when his back was turned. I need to look this person in the eye and ask him why he did this. We're a vault of five hundred people. We know _everybody_. Who could _do _something like this? Never in my entire life could I have thought something like this would ever happen.'

'Well, we've never been running out of water before,' said Theresa. 'A crisis like that makes people do crazy things sometimes.'

'Not this. My father's been the one facilitating most of the rationing. In fact, he was in charge of the distribution yesterday. _Everyone_ spoke to him face-to-face. How do you strike down someone you've just had a conversation with?'

At a loss for words, Theresa could only give her friend a reassuring smile.

* * *

><p>A few nights later, Pat found herself standing in the storage room with a security guard named Lyle. Lyle was part of the ever growing Exodus group that, until that evening, had been her responsibility to lead. Now she had handed control back over to Theresa, which was a huge source of relief. Pat had never really been big on the whole leadership thing. She was more a support person. Of course when Albert had chosen her to lead in his and Theresa's absence, she had stepped up to the plate without hesitation. Duty came before preference. But now, at least, she could get back to just being one of the pack. She liked it better that way.<p>

'The other guards have been telling me you've been here three evenings in a row,' said Lyle. 'You really don't have to be here.' Pat was staring at the spot where her father had been knocked out. Her hands were resting on her hips, her mind racing to figure out how the perpetrator had managed to attack her father without alerting him. 'I'm sure I can take on _one _thief if he shows up.'

'That's not why I'm here,' Pat told him. 'My father was found right in this spot.' She pointed at the floor near the corner of the room. 'He told me he was here after eight.'

'That's when the guard on duty puts the storage room into lockdown for the night,' Lyle clarified for her. 'Only the Overseer has access from that time until the next morning. But since those supplies started getting stolen, we've been tasked to do inventory checks each night just before we lock the place down.'

'Whoever attacked him must have known he'd be down here.'

'What makes you say that?'

'Why else come down here after eight? You said it yourself. The place goes into lockdown. There'd be no reason even trying sneaking into the storage room that late. They knew he'd still be here checking supplies.'

'Technically, you could pick the lock. No need to wait until someone left the door open behind them. Didn't that girl… what was her name…?'

'Natalia?'

'Yeah, that one. Didn't she used to get past doors she wasn't supposed to? Almost all the doors in the vault can be opened manually.'

'But doesn't a lockdown mean there are deadbolts in place, controlled electronically?'

Lyle rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'Yeah, you're right,' he admitted. 'But who could have known he was down here, then? Did he speak to anyone?'

'Some of the other security guards, maybe,' Pat said, 'but no one else.'

'Did he say who? I could look them up for you.'

'What? You mean check their rooms to see if they have more supplies than they're supposed to?'

'If that's what it takes.'

'Why are you being helpful all of a sudden? I thought you didn't even want me down here in the first place.'

'Hey, that's not fair. I just said I'd be fine here by myself when it came time to lock the doors. Look, I want this guy found as much as you do. But we have people in the security department working on that right now. Why not leave them to do the dangerous work?'

'_Because_ it's my father, Lyle. But that still doesn't explain why you're trying to help me all of a sudden.'

'Look, Pat. I personally think you're just wasting your time, but if it means that much to you, then I'm going to help you out.'

'Why?'

'Because you're my boss.'

'Not anymore. Theresa's back, remember?'

'You're also my friend, and… and I've always been hoping, maybe… we could be something more?'

Pat gave a frowning smile and punched him playfully on the shoulder. 'Shut up,' she berated.

'I'm serious,' said Lyle, staring intensely into her eyes.

Pat's smile faltered. 'Maybe we should… get back out,' she suggested. 'You're supposed to be manning the ration supply area after all.' She walked past him and out the door to the temporary rationing station outside, not a little flustered by Lyle's come-on.

* * *

><p>Albert, Alex, Natalia, Tycho, and Dogmeat stood before the large cog-shaped door to their home. Tycho was excited to be about to get a glimpse of what an actual fallout shelter looked like. But the vault dwellers were just as ecstatic. Whatever their individual thoughts about life on the outside, they were all just happy to be home.<p>

Albert entered the access code into the control terminal by the door. Fifteen seconds later, the Overseer's face appeared on the monitor.

'You're back!' he exclaimed. Then his enthusiasm faltered. 'You're not bringing back _another _injured person are you?' he said seriously.

'Well, yes. Sort of,' Albert began, taking no small pleasure from the disgruntled look on the Overseer's face, 'but we _also _have something you might be interested in.'

'Do you have the chip or don't you?' the Overseer said in frustration.

'We do,' Natalia piped in.

The Overseer gave an audible sigh of relief. 'Thank goodness!' he said. 'I'm letting you in now. Come straight down to the CCC. If the other vault dwellers hear about your success before you get me that chip, you'll be swarmed.'

A few minutes later, the four of them and Dogmeat found themselves before the Overseer's raised platform. He lowered the platform to ground level, noting disdainfully as he did so the presence of the dog and yet another human stranger.

'You can't keep bringing in strays,' he said to Albert.

'These "strays",' Albert said indignantly, 'helped us get the chip. Without them, none of us would be standing in front of you right now.'

'You're right. Of course,' the Overseer offered apologetically. 'I've just been under a lot of pressure lately. I'm sorry. Things… haven't been going too well here… But it sounds like that's all about to change. You have the chip?'

'Yes,' said Albert. Alex stepped forward but Albert held him back with one hand. 'But I think we should talk more about letting people leave the Vault,' he said adamantly to the Overseer. Whatever Albert's own growing misgivings about the world outside, he knew he still had a responsibility to his Exodus group there in the Vault.

The old man frowned and a flash of irritation crossed his features. But when he saw that Albert wasn't going to budge, he relented. His brow relaxed.

'Well, you've certainly earned that right, I guess,' he said. 'But let's take care of survival first. Give me the chip and we'll discuss this after you give your report.'

Alex glanced at Albert who nodded. Taking the chip from its container in his belt, Alex moved forward and handed it over to the Overseer.

'Follow me,' said the Overseer, as we walked over to the group of control computers that were arranged in the exact same configuration as the ones in Vault-12. He moved over to the water processing control computer, pulled open the control panel after keying in a few commands on the terminal, then replaced the old chip with the new one. Closing the panel, he turned his attention back to the keyboard and monitor. Everyone watched with anticipation. Now that they were actually going to put it to the test, there was a certain anxiety that the replacement chip might actually fail to work the way it was supposed to.

'Okey-dokey,' the Overseer said, entering in a few commands. 'One moment, the chip is initializing.' A series of digital readouts appeared across the screen. 'Here, here, here, there it goes,' the Overseer said as each step in the initialization passed. 'Self-test is green,' he murmured to himself. 'Re-boot is good… Hah!' He raised both hands in the air in an expression of triumph. 'It's working! And it looks like we have a winner! Haha!' More than one sigh of relief escaped the lips of the other vault dwellers. They couldn't help but grin. The Overseer's sudden and uncharacteristic exuberance was contagious. He sighed with a contented smile playing on his lips. 'You…' he paused to compose himself. 'You've saved us!' he said, turning to Albert with a look of genuine gratitude and respect on his face. 'You've done it! All of you! You saved the Vault!' When no one said anything, he looked around at their faces. 'What's the matter? You should be proud!'

'We are,' Albert reassured him, looking over the faces of his friends. 'But I think we're all just a little exhausted now. It's good that this thing is finally over.'

'Of course, of course. How silly of me,' the Overseer said, berating himself. 'Go. Go get your much deserved rest. We'll talk again in the morning.'

'Where should I write up the report?' asked Albert as the rest turned to leave.

'In the library,' said the Overseer. 'But go get yourself a good night's rest. The report can wait till the morning. Oh, and one more thing. Talk to Matthias over at logistics. He'll get a room for that new friend of yours. And… uh, I'm assuming that… dog is going to be staying with someone?'

'He'll stay in my room,' said Albert.

The Overseer nodded.

'One more thing,' Albert said.

'What's that?'

'I know this can probably wait till tomorrow, but what exactly _has _been happening down here recently? You said things haven't been going well.'

'Well, it probably doesn't matter anymore. Now that we've got the chip in place, all those problems should go away.'

Albert frowned with suspicion. 'That doesn't sound like the Overseer I know,' he said.

The Overseer sighed. 'Come on to my office,' he said. 'You may not like to hear what I have to say.'

'Well, closing time,' said Lyle, yawning. He got up from his chair.

'It's only eight,' said Pat.

'I've had the early morning shifts this entire past week,' he said as he walked over to the control panel on the door behind that led back into the storage room. 'Oh,' he said and paused in mid keystroke. 'Almost forgot to check the supplies.' He pulled an electronic datapad from his sling bag. 'Listen, I've got to go make sure all the other doors on this floor are locked for the night. Do you think you could help me with the inventory?'

'I'm… not really sure I know how, but okay,' said Pat.

'It's easy,' Lyle told her. 'All the water supplies on the shelves are tagged. You just need to scan their barcode with the reader on the back of this datapad.'

'Sounds easy enough, I guess,' she said.

'It is.' He handed the datapad over. 'I'll be back in ten minutes or so.'

As Pat stepped through the doorway to the storage room, she paused.

'Wait, should we be… separating like that?'

'Are you… saying yes to my earlier proposition?' Lyle said hopefully.

'What?' Pat replied, momentarily confused. 'I… no. Wait. I mean… that's not what I meant.' Lyle's hopeful expression faltered. 'What I meant was, should we be splitting up with that thief still running loose?'

'I'll lock the door behind you.'

'You'll… _lock _the door?'

'I'll be back. I swear.'

'What if _you _get attacked?'

In response, Lyle swung out his retractable baton to its fully extended length.

'Okay, that was… slightly obscene,' Pat commented, earning a chuckle from Lyle.

'I'll be fine,' he reassured her.

She sighed. 'I guess there's no better place to get locked into than a giant closet full of supplies.' She took the datapad and headed in. Lyle shut the door behind her and locked it.

Inside, Pat got to work. It was a tedious job, but she recognized the value in it.

At the halfway mark, she began to worry. Fifteen minutes had already passed and Lyle had not returned. She went on scanning for another five minutes and then abruptly stopped at what she thought sounded like something bumping against one of the shelves. She looked around but the place was a maze of shelves and bits of equipment. It was impossible to get a good view of the entire storage room in one glance. Too many obstructions.

'Lyle?' she called. No answer. She walked back past the shelves of other vault equipment until she was back at the door. It was still shut. She tried to open it from inside but found it still locked. So Lyle hadn't made it back in. Then what was that—

She heard the heavy footfall behind and turned in time to see the long metal object come swinging towards her head. Pat twisted her body at the last moment to try and evade the metal bat. The bat struck her on the forehead but with not as much force as had been intended. Pat went down hard.

Her vision swam and darkened but she forced herself to move. She pushed off just as the bat came down again. She screamed as it smashed into the back of her leg.

How had he gotten in? She hadn't heard the door open. Had he somehow snuck in earlier when she and Lyle had been standing around the water stores? Or had he been in here the whole time?

The bat came down again on her back, missing her kidneys by an inch. She tried to scream again but the wind had been knocked out of her.

_No! _She wasn't going to allow this to happen again. If she was going to be attacked just like her father, she at least needed to look this coward in the face. Instead of trying to scramble away again, she turned on her back and found herself face-to-face with a rather familiar vault dweller. She vaguely recognized his face, but then again, everyone in the Vault looked familiar. The man had the bat raised above his head but the moment they made eye contact, his resolve faltered.

Pat's vision darkened again for a second and she struggled to clear her head. She couldn't lose consciousness now! She tried to push herself backwards but the man followed easily. At least he looked uncertain. It didn't seem like he was prepared to bring the bat down once more now that she was facing him.

Then she recognized the bat. She recalled Lyle telling her about a friend of his who had inherited an old metal baseball bat from his grandparents. Lyle had invited her to a few of those informal games in the hallways on occasion. Pat knew of no one else in the Vault who had a pre-War bat in his or her possession.

'J… Jack,' she said, struggling over the words as her vision went hazy again.

'Oh, shit,' she heard him breathe. She saw the look of panic in his eyes and suddenly realized it might not have been the best idea to identify him to his face. She tried to get up but her body wasn't responding.

'Lyle!' she heard him call through the locked doorway.

In her haze, she tried to put the pieces together but it wouldn't make sense. She knew the two of them were friends, but why would he be calling…

A few seconds later, she heard Lyle's voice through the door.

'Is it done?' she heard him ask. A second later, the door opened and Lyle stepped in. His glance passed from Jack to her. And then his eyes widened. He shoved Jack roughly. 'You idiot!' he yelled. 'She's still conscious?' Lyle activated the control panel behind him and the door slid shut, sealing them all inside. Lyle activated the internal lock.

'She dodged the blow!' Jack protested.

'Wha… Lyle what are you…?' Pat mumbled, trying desperately to hold on to consciousness. Her body was feeling weak. It would be so easy just to drift off.

'Great! Now she knows we're _both _involved!' said Lyle.

'What do we do?' Jack asked, still in a panic. 'We can't just knock her out anymore. She'll be able to identify us.'

'Shit, I don't know!' Lyle groaned.

Pat glanced back and forth between the two of them. Even in her dazed state, she knew what the conclusion was going to be. She just couldn't believe it… Until Jack said it out loud.

'I've got it,' said Jack, calming down a little. 'We… we kill her. And leave her body in here. No one else saw us.'

'What? No!' Lyle said in disbelief. 'We can't kill her! Are you insane?'

'What other choice do we have? It's not like we can leave the Vault by tomorrow before anyone knows.'

'And what about me? Everyone on the security detail knows I was here with her tonight!'

'Tell them exactly what you did,' said Jack. 'You went to lock up the doors while she helped with the inventory. And in that time, someone snuck in and offed her and then stole more water.'

'I'll still be the prime suspect!'

'Fine, then we'll move her. Back to her room or something. Take her water supplies so people will think she got robbed.'

'Jack! You're talking… you're talking _murder _here!' Lyle was still floored by his friend's suggestion.

'We don't have a choice, Lyle. Everyone's going to find out what we did as long as she's alive. The Overseer will have us incarcerated for life. Or maybe he'll even execute us.'

'For stealing water?'

'These are desperate times.'

'But I…'

'Come on, Lyle. We have to be decisive. Look I have the bat. One swing, and it'll be over. You won't have to do a thing.'

'But I… I _like _her.'

Jack stared. So did Pat.

'Too late for that now, buddy,' said Jack. 'You think she's going to like you back after what we did?'

'This wasn't supposed to happen.'

'Should have thought of that earlier. Now help me take her to the back. No need for anyone who happens to pass by hearing me cave her face in.'

Jack moved towards Pat. She tried to struggle but she was still woozy from the blow to the head. Jack grabbed both her legs and dragged her unceremoniously across the smooth floor back to the where the water supplies were located – the furthest location from the door. Lyle walked dumbly after them. Jack glanced once at his friend's lack of cooperation, rolled his eyes, and continued pulling Pat across the floor. Pat tried to summon another scream but her vocal chords weren't responding. All she could let out was a groan.

When they were in the back of the storage room, Jack released Pat's legs. She tried to push herself off the floor but Jack held her down with his boot. She didn't have the strength to push it off.

'Are you ready?' Jack asked. Lyle still looked uncertain.

Just then, they heard the door to the room slide open again.

'What the—I locked it!' said Lyle. 'What do we do now?'

'She can't be allowed to speak,' said Jack.

'Look!' they heard a woman's voice. Through the gaps in the shelves and equipment they could vaguely make out two people entering the room. They weren't wearing vault suits. And they must have seen the blood stains on the floor from Pat's head wound. 'Over there!' they heard the woman shout as her sharp eyes located them even through the many shelves partially blocking their view.

'Do it!' Lyle blurted out suddenly to Jack.

Jack raised the bat high over his head. Lyle heard some kind of energy pulse. He saw a beam of red cut through the shelves and equipment. It burnt a hole straight through Jack's chest. Jack's eyes bulged. He dropped the bat and collapsed backwards, gasping for breath.

Thinking quickly, Lyle snatched his old pocket knife from his belt, pulled out the blade, and yanked Pat towards him, pressing the blade to her neck.

A few seconds later, Natalia and Albert burst into the aisle where the water supplies were located. Albert was carrying his laser rifle. Natalia had her Desert Eagle in one hand and her electronic micromanipulator that the Thieves' Circle had given her in the other. Jack was making disturbing gurgling noises, struggling for breath. Blood was seeping from his mouth. He wouldn't be making it.

Lyle recognized both of them and felt a surge of shame flood through his body. Albert's eyes were cold. And Lyle couldn't decide what was worse: that it was the leader of the Exodus group who had found him out or that Albert's face didn't even register surprise that it was a member of his own team who now held Pat and knifepoint.

'Let her go,' Albert said calmly.

'I didn't want this to happen,' said Lyle.

'I know,' said Albert. 'Let her go and this can end peacefully.'

'No, it can't,' said Lyle, tears coming to his eyes. 'The Overseer's going to put me behind bars… or worse.'

'Lyle, right?' said Albert. Lyle looked up, surprised that Albert still remembered his name. 'Do you know your name always came up whenever I spoke to Pat?'

'Me?' Lyle said uncertainly.

'Always told her the two of you could be a good match.'

'What do you mean?'

'You were always the gung-ho but proactive one. She was always the cautious but patient one. I always told her the two of you could balance each other out.'

'And? What did she say?'

'She was considering it.'

'Bullshit. I tried her. Earlier.'

'Did she turn you down?'

'She… she didn't do anything.'

'There you have it then. At the very least, she cared enough about you to give it serious thought. Now, do you really want to hurt her?'

'No,' Lyle shook his head, the tears flowing freely now. 'But I will if I have to.'

'What do you want, Lyle?'

'I want out. If you're back in the Vault, that means you can get me out. Just give me your pack and I'll leave. I'll never come back again.'

'You'll die out there,' said Natalia.

'Can't be worse than in here,' Lyle sniffed.

'Alright,' Albert said. 'Natalia, could you get my pack from my room and meet us at security door?' Albert handed her his keycard.

'You can't be serious,' said Natalia.

'Do it,' Albert said with utter seriousness.

Natalia holstered her weapon and turned to leave.

'And don't think of calling anyone,' said Lyle. 'If I see anyone…'

'She won't,' said Albert giving Natalia a look. Natalia looked reluctant but nodded.

'Get up,' Lyle said roughly to Pat, trying to pull her to her feet.

'She needs medical attention,' said Albert. 'Why don't you let her go, and the two of us can head to the vault door?'

'I made a mistake with this whole thing,' said Lyle. 'But I'm not an idiot.'

'You're going to be alright,' Albert said to Pat as she struggled groggily to her feet. Albert lowered his rifle. He didn't have anything to fear from Lyle.

The journey to the elevators was arduous. Pat could barely walk and Lyle, for all his remorse, wasn't making things easy for her. Natalia was waiting for them by the inner security door when they arrived.

'We can't just let him get away with this,' Natalia said through gritted teeth as she handed over the pack to Lyle who, with some difficulty, got one of the straps over his shoulder while still keeping the knife pressed to Pat's neck.

'I know what I'm doing,' said Albert. 'Would you kindly open the vault door for us, please?'

'It's in lockdown,' she said. 'Only the Overseer has the access code.'

Albert gave her a disapproving stare. Natalia rolled her eyes and fished out her micromanipulator.

In a few minutes, she had gotten the inner door to the airlock open. Albert, Lyle, and Pat stepped in.

'Close the door behind us,' said Albert. Natalia stared uncomprehendingly at him. 'Trust me, please,' he said.

Natalia sighed in frustration and entered a few more commands into the control panel beside the door, the jack from the micromanipulator still sticking into the machine. She watched the door close in front of her as the red warning lights in the ceiling came to life. Then the three other vault dwellers were cut off from view.

In the airlock, Albert, Lyle, and Pat watched as the large outer vault door rolled to the side, revealing the dark cave beyond.

'Are there flares in the pack?' Lyle asked.

'Everything you need,' said Albert. 'Now let her go.'

Lyle walked backwards to the exit with Pat still held towards him. Albert followed them out into the cave. Lyle slowly released Pat from his grip, the knife slipping to his side. Pat had recovered from the blow to her head enough to stand upright now. She limped away from him and into Albert's arms.

'For what it's worth, I'm… sorry,' Lyle said to Pat. None of them could look at the other.

Albert extricated himself from Pat's embrace. 'Take this,' he said to Lyle, walking towards him with the laser rifle held vertically before him in a symbol of friendship. 'You'll need it if you're going to survive.'

Lyle walked towards him. His eyes were on the rifle. He didn't see Albert's other hand. His hand clasped the barrel of the rifle. Then he felt the blade as Albert's knife plunged deep into the pit of his stomach.

As Albert held the knife in place, memories of Theresa lying on the stretcher in Doc Morbid's basement came rushing back.

'No one threatens one of my team,' he said icily. 'And you're not part of that team anymore.' Lyle gasped, eyes opened wide in shock. Albert pulled the knife out and stepped back as Lyle dropped to his knees. Lyle doubled over unable to do anything but stare at the ground. Calmly, Albert raised his rifle, placed the barrel against the head of an unresisting Lyle, and pulled the trigger, quickly ending Lyle's suffering.


	18. Chapter 17: Enemies of the State

So, I managed to finish the chapter after all before my flight. I actually do need to proofread it one more time, but... right now at least... I think it reads okay. This is another emotional/psychological chapter. So, once again, a detour from the main storyline (at least by the game's standards). I hope I've addressed some of the issues/concerns/hopes that some of you faithful reviewers/readers have mentioned. No guarantees that I'll always do so in future (depends partly also on the story I want to tell), but I will at least consider the stuff you write about in your reviews.

Anyway, next chapter is tentatively entitled 'Underworld'. For those of you who know the canon, you'll have guessed what it's about already. To the rest, you'll just have to speculate, which is kinda fun too.

**Chapter Seventeen: Enemies of the State**

Albert looked down at Pat's sleeping form. Among her injuries were a broken fibula, a minor concussion, and severe bruising on her lower back. The doctors predicted a full recovery, but it would take weeks even with the Vault's top notch medical facilities and equipment.

'I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner,' he said out loud. She didn't respond.

Albert thought back to what had happened just outside the vault door. It had been surprisingly easy this time. He tried to recall all the executions he had made and was surprised to find that there were a lot. At first it had been in the heat of the moment, the memory of some traumatic experience still fresh enough to prompt him to pull the trigger. But this… this was different. Lyle hadn't actually even done anything; Pat's injuries had been at the hands of his friend Jack. Even the principle was different. All the others, from Garl to the mutant at the watershed, had been individuals who, if left alive, would have caused even more suffering, if not on Albert's friends then on other innocents. But Lyle wasn't a bad guy. Just desperate. Even if he were to have somehow survived the wasteland, it was unlikely he would ever be in the same position as he had been in the Vault storage room with Pat. No, that had been a simple, cold act of vengeance.

At what point had he become an agent of the very nebulous concept of vengeance? Albert couldn't even tell. He wasn't sure if it had happened gradually over time or if it had just been one tipping point that had changed him from second-degree murderer to executioner.

Albert shook his head to clear it. At least, whatever it was, it was over and done with. Now that Vault-13 had been saved, there was no need to be put into such situations ever again. Now the only question left was whether he could go back to before he had ever taken that first step out of the Vault.

The door behind Albert opened and Alex came running in.

'I came as soon as I heard,' he said, breathing hard.

Albert shushed him and brought him back outside.

'How is she?' Alex asked.

'She'll be fine with time,' he said.

'What happened?'

Albert gave him the brief run down.

'Lyle... Lyle,' Alex searched his memory at Albert's revelation. 'Wait. _Our _Lyle? From our own Exodus group?'

Albert nodded.

'Damn!' Alex said in amazement. He looked through the window of the medical lab at Pat, her leg already in a cast. 'I hope he got what he deserved,' he said, his voice turning grim.

'I let him out of the Vault,' said Albert.

'You _what_?' Alex turned back, fixing Albert with a look that was full of both shock and outrage.

'If he had stayed here, his life would have been over.'

'_Which_ is what he deserved!' Alex blurted.

Albert looked around to make sure no one else was nearby. 'He made it five paces out of the airlock,' he confided. Alex's surprise quickly gave way to a look of satisfaction. 'Let's keep that between the two of us,' Albert added.

'What really happened?' Alex asked.

'Lyle is dead. Does anything else matter?'

'Not to me,' said Alex. He walked over to the window and looked in again at Pat, his hand reaching for the glass as if he could touch her. 'You did the right thing,' he told Albert. 'And good idea, taking him where no one would see his body.'

'Lyle didn't actually inflict those injuries on her,' said Albert, just a little surprised by how supportive Alex was. He had expected Alex would empathize, but not _this _much.

'If he didn't, he put her in a position to suffer physical harm,' said Alex. 'If it were me, I'd have strangled him to death or dug his eyes out.'

'You care about her,' Albert concluded.

'Doesn't everyone? She's pretty. She's smart. She's _always _the voice of reason... Unfortunately, that also puts her leagues ahead of any other guy in the vault.'

'Have you tried?'

Alex shook his head. 'Fear of rejection. Maybe once we move to the surface, I'll find someone up top.'

'You _know_ that may not happen in our lifetime. Especially with these mutants appearing all over the place, the best thing to do for now might be to lay low for a bit.'

'It'll blow over at _some _point. It has to. Maybe by the time we actually manage to convince the Overseer to see reason, things will have cleared up on the surface. Then I'll volunteer as a scout or something. After all, next to you and Natalia, I'm the most qualified and experienced... even if that's not saying much.'

'You've really gotten into the hang of this wasteland living, haven't you?'

'Yeah. All that machine fixing and water chip extraction stuff did wonders for my confidence.'

'Y'know, there aren't too many other functioning computers out there in the wasteland.'

'I know, but skills I can develop. I mean, look at you. You effectively ended the lives of who knows how many radscorpions by sealing them into their own home, you executed a plan that wiped out an entire camp of raiders, then took their leader's own armor as a final insult, you saved a beautiful damsel in distress, and then helped take down a corrupt casino owner because he tried to have one of your teammates killed, you engineered the eradication of a team of six super mutants, and now you executed an asshole for harming another one of your team. You are a badass motherfucker.'

'I'm not the person you want to emulate,' said Albert. 'Just ask Theresa.'

'Are you kidding? You're the person _everyone _should emulate – fighting the good fight, not giving any quarter to the scum of the wasteland… you're like an angel of vengeance, man! And screw what Theresa thinks. You do what you believe is right and you don't let nobody get in your way!'

'Right now, all I want to _be_ is a nobody in the deep underground recesses of Vault-13.'

'Really?' Alex looked surprised. 'After all you've done, you just want to… stay here for the rest of your life? What about the Exodus group?'

'I'll still fight for their right to leave. But once that's done, I'll probably just go back to bed.'

'How?'

'I think it involves opening my room door, falling on my bed, and closing my eyes.'

'That's not what I meant. How can you go back to this boring old vault life after all you've already accomplished?'

'I'm retired.'

Just then, the doors in the elevator lobby opened and Theresa came striding out, having also heard the same news about Pat's recent brush with death. She spotted Albert and slowed her pace. She had known he would be here but hadn't amply prepared herself for it. She walked up to the both of them.

'How is she?' she asked, deliberately avoiding any of the other uncomfortably conversation topics that could have come up.

'She'll recover,' said Albert.

'Can I see her?'

'She's resting now. She may be up in a few hours. So I hear you've resumed your responsibilities as leader of the group?'

'Just temporarily,' Theresa said quickly. 'Now that you're back—'

'I'll be playing an advisory role,' Albert interrupted, raising his hand to indicate that he had no intentions of reclaiming his original position. 'The group doesn't need yet another switch in leadership,' he said. 'And it's easier if there's just one person in charge. Fewer… conflicts.'

'Are you sure you'll be okay with that?' asked Theresa.

'When it comes to looking out for the interests of just one group without complicating matters, I know a candidate when I see one.'

'Then _why_?' Theresa asked, her voice rising a little as she recalled the terms of their parting back in the Hub. She had told herself she wouldn't bring up the issue again but the words spilled forth from her lips before she could hold them back. It was an expression of frustration for what could have been and what had been lost in the process

'Whatever it was, it's over now,' Albert said coolly, not bothering to clarify whether he was referring to the argument they had had or the time they had spent together. He didn't want to get back into this whole discussion again. Especially not with Theresa. He just wanted it all to end.

An awkward silence filled the air for a few long seconds before Albert spoke again. 'The Overseer's expecting me,' he said. 'He still hasn't heard the whole story about what happened in the storage room.' He excused himself and headed for the elevators, leaving Alex and Theresa standing uncomfortably by themselves in the lobby.

* * *

><p>'One vault dweller dead, and another no longer even <em>in <em>the Vault anymore!' the Overseer was livid. 'Never since this Vault was first built has there been such a thing. And now—'

'If I hadn't shot Jack, you'd _still _have had a murder on your hands,' said Albert, 'only it would have been that of an innocent woman.'

'And what about Lyle?' the Overseer demanded. 'You let someone out of the Vault _illegally_!'

'It was the only way I could get him to release Pat,' said Albert.

'And now he's gone without ever facing judgment for his crimes.'

'He has no food, water, or supplies. You and I both know that the wasteland is deadly for the unprepared.'

'I didn't mean I was going to _execute _him!' said the Overseer. 'What am I going to tell the rest of the Vault now? Once they find out someone made it out under the noses of the Vault leaders, they're going to have a field day. It'll be chaos, Albert. And how did you manage to bypass the security protocols on the door in the first place?'

'I picked up a few things while I was on the surface,' Albert lied. There was no need to let the Overseer know Natalia had a tool that could effectively hack just about any electronically operated door in the Vault.

'Then Lyle wouldn't have known about it. Why even let him know it could be done in the first place?'

'It gave him a glimmer of hope. Prevented him from resorting to anything drastic.'

The Overseer sighed heavily. 'Alright. Fine,' he said. 'But you're going to have to help me think about what to tell the rest of the Vault. They can't know that this is an option.'

'They should,' said Albert.

'Not yet,' the Overseer countered. 'You know them. If they find out that there's a way to get out without my approval, you and I both know there'll be dozens who'll just pick up and leave without ever thinking about the consequences of their actions, both for themselves and for those they leave behind. You're one of the only reasonable people in that group of yours. Can I trust that you won't make this information public knowledge?'

'For now,' said Albert, knowing that the Overseer was correct. 'But we need to talk about this more thoroughly,' said Albert.

'And I said we would,' the Overseer replied. '_After _I've taken a look at your report. In the meantime…'

'Tell them he tried to run when he was discovered,' said Albert. 'He fled to one of the rooms with machinery in it and accidentally ended up getting caught in the gears. No body. No evidence that he ever left the Vault.'

* * *

><p>Outside the Overseer's office, Natalia was waiting outside for Albert.<p>

'What did he say?' she asked.

'He thinks I opened the vault door,' said Albert as he walked down the corridor away from the office, Natalia in tow. 'Just keep that gizmo of yours hidden. No one needs to know we have a free ticket out of the vault.'

'It's not exactly free,' said Natalia. 'You have to know how to use the thing.'

'Which puts you in an even more dangerous position if someone were to find out,' Albert pointed out. 'Have you already spoken to Matthias about getting Tycho a room?' he said to change the topic.

'I did… wait!' Natalia grabbed Albert's hand as she realized his deflection, stopping him in mid-stride. 'I need to know what happened out there with Alex. Why did you still have your pack when you came back in with Pat?' Natalia had a strong suspicion she knew, but she wanted to hear him say it.

'I told you,' said Albert, 'Lyle got so guilt-stricken at what he put Pat through that he decided to just walk out and let the wasteland take him. You should have seen his face when he tried to apologize to Pat.'

'Bullshit,' Natalia said angrily. 'Why did you _really _let him out of the Vault?'

Albert couldn't tell her the real reason. Skeptical about the Overseer's sense of justice, he had, instead, decided to take matters into his own hands. And besides, Lyle had indirectly tried to harm the woman he had put in charge of his group. That made it personal.

'What does it matter anyway?' he said irritably.

'It matters because of what it's doing to you!' she answered, inadvertently revealing her suspicions.

'It doesn't affect _you_!' Albert argued. 'Why should you care?'

'Because I _do_!' she blurted.

Albert stared at her for the longest moment. Then his tone softened. 'I'm fine. Really,' he said. 'You don't have to worry about me.' Then he walked off, leaving Natalia to wonder at her own outburst.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, most of the entire Vault was gathered in the main meeting room. A portrait of Maxwell Stone had been propped up on an easel with a plastic wreath encircling it. On a small pedestal beside it lay a few relics associated with Stone: a pair of brass knuckle dusters he had always carried with him, a catcher's glove that was so large that it could fit only Stone's hand, and the baseball he had picked up weeks during their first few days outside of the Vault – a lifetime ago, it seemed. Beside him on another easel was a portrait of Ian that Natalia had somehow sketched with startling accuracy using shading pencils – yet another sign of her giftedness. On his pedestal was the Heckler &amp; Koch he had used as his weapon almost the entire time he had been with them – it was the only thing of his they had been able to retrieve after his passing. None of the security guards at the meeting were too pleased about that despite Natalia showing them that it was unloaded. But they let it pass. And so long as the Overseer didn't pay the event a visit, it would remain that way. Where the security personnel were only concerned about live ammunition, the Overseer was concerned with what it symbolized and what exposure to such a symbol could mean for the residents of Vault-13.<p>

Albert gave his eulogy for both men, emphasizing their character strengths and, above all, the contributions they had made in retrieving the water purification chip. Both Stone's parents were overwhelmed with grief and were surrounded by a throng of sympathizers.

Half an hour after the eulogies had been given, people had separated into smaller groups all around the room, gossiping as usual, but now with more material – everything from Stone's life in the Vault prior to his departure to the recent deaths of Jack and Lyle to the return of the water chip.

Albert stood by himself in a corner, watching the proceedings. Back in the day, before leaving the Vault, he would have been all over the floor, chatting everyone up, charming his way through conversations… now all he wanted to do was find a quiet place to be alone. His thoughts turned to Pat. He wondered if she was doing better, if she was up for a chat. He had always enjoyed talking to her. She always had intelligent, sensible things to talk about. He suddenly realized that in the weeks since his departure from the Vault, he had actually missed their occasional conversations.

Theresa had been walking around the room, talking to various people, always with her gaze returning to him. But Albert wasn't interested. He knew she wanted to talk about "them". For all her talk of things being over between the two of them, he knew that she wanted to start over again now that he was back. But he didn't. Theresa was a reminder of Gizmo, of Doc Morbid, of Iguana Bob, and, with that, of every other harsh decision he had made. He just wanted to put it all behind him. Now that the Vault had its water chip, he could finally do just that. And it would start with a good, long, nostalgic conversation with Pat so she could knock some sense back into him.

Albert was just about to sneak out of the meeting room when he heard shouting.

'You never cared about any of us!' he heard a woman's raised voice and realized it was Sandy, Stone's mother. 'You stole from your friends! You spurned your own father! You hang out more with those… _outsiders _you brought in with you than you ever did with your own people! First that Ian, and now this… this other man! You weren't _worth _Stone's sacrifice! I wish you had died instead of him!'

The woman was in tears and so was Natalia. But she still stood right there, in front of hundreds of people and just taking it without a word in her own defense. Albert knew what she had said to Sandy. That _stupid_… intelligent, gifted, remarkable… woman had gotten it in her head to tell Stone's parents that she was to blame for his death.

Tycho came in at that moment and grabbed Natalia's arm, pulling her away from a crowd that was growing increasingly supportive of Sandy and hostile towards her.

'Yeah, you take her with you when you leave the Vault!' Stone's father, Sam, shouted at Tycho. 'She _belongs_ out there with yourkind!'

As Tycho was quickly escorting Natalia out of the meeting room, Natalia looked up and her eyes locked with Albert's. Albert knew what she wanted. She was looking for his support. She was looking for the same kind of comfort he had given her back at the Khans' base. Her pacing slowed, and Tycho followed her gaze to discern the source of her distraction. He spotted Albert and the two men made eye contact. Albert made a slight gesture with his head to tell Tycho to keep her moving. Then Albert turned away so he wouldn't have to look at Natalia.

'What the hell was that all about?' Alex asked, coming up beside Albert.

'Melodrama in Vault-13,' Albert said cynically. 'Stone taught you to fire a gun, didn't he?'

'Yeah, why?'

'Why don't you head on over to his parents and tell them nice things about their son teaching you how to defend yourself in the wasteland.' It was a statement, not a suggestion.

'Why?' Alex persisted.

'Right at this very minute, they're constructing the memories of their son that they're going to be carrying around with them for the rest of their lives until they die. They could use some positive stories.'

Once Alex had gone over to help calm Stone's distraught parents, Albert made use of the new distraction to leave the meeting room. The only one who noticed his departure was Theresa but she made no move to follow.

* * *

><p>Natalia sat on the bed in her and Theresa's room, forehead pressed into the palm of her hands, still distressed by the tongue lashing she had just received. But it wasn't just that. That had simply been the trigger. She had already suspected this was how they were going to react, and a part of her had actually welcomed it. But Sam and Sandy were a direct reminder of Stone and his death, which was a reminder of the costs they had had to pay to retrieve the water chip, which was a reminder of Ian's death, Albert's coldness, and her first bloody murder at the Khans' base. Those bad memories, in turn, were reminders that her life in the Vault hadn't been all that happy either. She remembered her early troubles with kleptomania, which also reminded her of her youth, which then reminded her of her father. As if to torture herself, her mind had connected everything together in a horribly overwhelming way. It made her feel as if her entire existence was just comprised of a chain of miserable events, all lined up one after another.<p>

Tycho handed her a tissue from the nearby tissue box for her to wipe her eyes.

'Why did you have to tell them that? You knew this might happen,' he said to break the silence, then instantly regretted his choice of words. He sat down on the bed next to her. 'Should I call Albert here?' he asked. Natalia looked up at him, her eyes red from the tears. 'Look, I've seen how you look at him,' Tycho continued. 'I know you have feelings for him, whether you'd like to think so or not.'

'But does _he_?' Natalia asked out loud, fixing him with a gaze from her red, tear-stained eyes. 'I don't know how to read him, Tycho. One moment he's this pillar of comfort and strength, and then the next he's cold and distant. Tycho, I think he… I think he killed that water thief.'

'The one who tried to flee the Vault?'

'Maybe Albert's already become that person you were afraid he would…'

'It's too early to say that,' Tycho replied, trying to reassure her. He couldn't tell what she was primarily upset about now. Was it her guilt over Stone's death? Was it the verbal abuse she had suffered at the hands of his parents? Was it the lack of clear signs from Albert? Was it that she thought he might have executed someone... Or was it all of the above?

'I don't even know if all the times he was nice to me was because I'm just another member of the team.'

'You won't know if you don't ask,' Tycho said.

'Or maybe I've just been looking in the wrong place,' she mused, staring off into space, smirking audibly at her own perceived foolishness.

'Well, you're not on the road anymore,' said Tycho, trying to think of the right words to cheer her up. 'Now that you're back in the Vault, maybe you could—'

'Did you mean what you said?' she interrupted him softly but suddenly.

'About what?' Tycho asked.

She looked up at him. 'Back in the hotel in Necropolis, when you said I should find support in those who cared about me.'

'Of course I did,' said Tycho, returning her gaze. 'What's this about?'

'Did you mean _more_… than what you said,' she rephrased, looking him in the eye.

'Natalia,' he said gently, picking up on her underlying question. 'We've only known each other for a few weeks. Heck, we've only really gotten to know each other since those scouting runs we did back in Necropolis. I—'

'You said I won't know if I don't ask,' she pressed.

'I was referring to Albert.'

'I'm asking _you_, _now_,' she said. Her voice and expression were completely serious.

Sensing the potential awkwardness, Tycho got up and walked over to the dresser so his back was facing her. But in the reflection of the mirror on top of the dresser, he could still see the two of them, alone in her room. He leaned heavily on the dresser. 'I belong in the outside world,' he said. 'This Vault of yours is nice but… it's not my home.'

'It's not mine either,' Natalia said with a tinge of sadness. She sniffed once, rose from the bed, and approached him directly, taking both his hands and placing them around hers just like he had done back in the hotel. He didn't resist. Held up at chest-level and intertwined together, their hands functioned both as an expression of physical intimacy and, at the same time, the only barrier left between their two bodies.

'Forget for a moment that we've only had weeks to get to know each other,' she said, fixing him with her dark eyes. 'Forget about issues of living in a vault. If you feel anything – if you honestly believe there could be something between us – then tell me now.'

'What about—'

'Let him go down the path he's set for himself. If he won't let anyone in, that's his business. I'm not going to wait any longer. Give me a straight answer now and there will be no more self-pity. No more wallowing in uncertainty. No second-guessing. No regrets.' All the while as she spoke, she had been drawing closer and closer to him.

'Do you mean that?' he asked just as seriously. 'Because all I've wanted is for you to stop looking back to what's passed. You've done enough of that. It's time you started looking forward.'

'I'm looking forward now,' she said almost directly into his mouth.

That was enough for Tycho. He loosened his hands from her grasp, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her the rest of the way towards him. The last of Natalia's tears fell from her cheeks as she reached around with one hand and held him close for a long, deep kiss while her other went for the lock on the room door.

* * *

><p>Several levels above, drenched in sweat, Albert channeled his frustration into his bench presses. He had left the reception for Ian and Stone hoping to have a word or two with Pat only to find that the doctors had upped her pain meds, which had meant that she had been too groggy to talk... which, in turn, had meant that he had had to find another outlet. Albert had never really been a hardcore gym enthusiast – that had been Stone's area of expertise – but he certainly could see the value in it now.<p>

His mind churned with confusion. The larger part of him was relieved, happy, and satisfied that he was finally home. The wasteland had taken its toll on him, of that there was no doubt, and he was wholeheartedly looking forward to a simple life away from the evils of the world above. But another part was coming to realize that he had lost some kind of connection with the other vault dwellers. He had become stuck in some sort of ridiculous paradox. Life on the outside had taught him that there was so much more to learn than experiences within the vault could ever teach. The vault dwellers, through no fault of their own, were ignorant and circumscribed, like children. It was difficult to think of them as anything but. On the other hand, this ignorance was also what _enabled_ a simple life, where the infinite permutations of the wider world outside could not penetrate. Life in the Vault was safe, uncomplicated, predictable, and, above all, morally and ethically straightforward.

Maybe it just took time. Maybe, in a few weeks, the thoughts in his head would settle and he'd be able to go back to how things were before without constantly thinking about "what he would have done differently in the wasteland."

Albert heard the door to the gym open. Dogmeat got up from where he had been resting nearby, his ears perked in anticipation. Albert craned his neck from where he lay and saw two people entering, one in a wheelchair. He got up and started toweling off as much sweat as he could manage.

Pat rolled in from the doorway with a very uncomfortable looking medical assistant following closely behind. The young man had probably just gotten the results of his G.O.A.T. recently and had been assigned to the medical lab. To Albert that was one of the worst jobs a vault dweller could be assigned to. Eventually it became a rewarding line of work but it always started with menial tasks and late night shifts. And of course, every now and then someone like Pat would disobey the doctor's prescriptions and leave the med lab.

'Hey,' said Albert, walking over and meeting her halfway. Dogmeat trotted up to her and licked at her hand while she petted his head with her other. When she seemed amenable enough, Dogmeat raised himself against the arm of her chair and channeled his amiability directly at her face. Albert was pleased to hear her laugh in delight. She was one of the few who was actually having the pleasure of meeting Dogmeat in person – a real treat considering there were now practically no vault dwellers left in the Vault who had actually kept pets in their lifetime.

'I heard you brought in a dog but…' Pat laughed again as Dogmeat licked her face. 'Is he always this friendly?'

'Only because you let him,' said Albert. '_My _face is off limits. You don't want to know where that tongue of his has been.' Pat's smile faltered a second. 'Just kidding,' Albert lied. _Let her be ignorant and happy_, he thought.

Pat noticed Dogmeat's many scars.

'He's been through a lot,' said Albert. 'Probably more than the rest of us put together.'

'Are you going to keep him in the Vault?' she asked, a little concerned.

'Well, he chose _me _more than I chose him,' Albert explained, 'but I see the problem… I never really thought about it till now.' Albert had lived in the Vault his entire life, but could Dogmeat do the same? Just as Albert expected Tycho would eventually leave, he wasn't sure if the subterranean life was for his canine companion.

'Give it a week or two,' Pat suggested. 'See if he gets antsy.'

'You shouldn't be out of bed, y'know,' said Albert.

Pat rolled her eyes. 'That's what Rufus here has been telling me the whole way down from the lab.'

'Your not ready to be off your medication yet,' said the one named Rufus.

'I feel fine,' Pat insisted.

'You won't once what's already in your system runs its course. Then you'll be hurtin' like a son of a—'

'_I_ got it from here,' Albert said, placing a reassuring hand on Rufus' shoulder. 'I'll take her back in a few minutes. Why don't you head on up and get her next round of meds set up? How long since her last dose?'

'Two hours since the last one went empty. There was a… delay getting the next bag.' Rufus looked uncomfortable.

'It's okay. You're new,' said Albert, knowing Rufus had messed up somewhere along the line. 'I'll get her back. She'll be fine.'

Once Rufus had left, Albert took hold of the handlebars on Pat's wheelchair and began the journey back to the elevators. Dogmeat tagged along by the side.

As they left the gym, Pat gave a strained sigh, as if she had been tensing herself the whole time. Concerned, Albert walked around to the front and got down on one knee to take a proper look at her. Tiny beads of perspiration were forming on her brow.

'You look like you're about to propose to a woman in a wheelchair,' she joked.

'I gotta get you back,' he said seriously, ignoring the jest.

'I'll be fine,' she said. 'Just not as fine as I let Rufus believe.'

Albert found a dry corner of his towel and dabbed the sweat away. He brushed a few stray strands of her dark hair out of her face.

'What were you doing coming down here anyway?'

'I heard you paid me a visit earlier while I was asleep. I thought it'd be nice to repay the gesture.'

'I would have come back.'

'Yeah, but by then it would have been too late for you to tell me whatever urgent thing was on your mind.'

'Nothing urgent. Really. I just haven't spoken to you since last night. I was afraid…'

'You were worried I wouldn't want to speak with you after what happened.' Albert's silence was as good as an affirmation. He had killed Lyle right in front of her eyes, and that was _with_ the foreknowledge that she was the kind of person to eschew the very notion of violence. 'Albert, I don't know why you felt you needed to do what you did,' she said, 'but I _know_ you. And I trust you.'

'I'm not sure _I _know me anymore,' Albert admitted.

Pat reached out and clasped Albert's hand that he had rested on the edge of her seat. 'What's wrong, Albert?' she asked.

Albert looked like he was about to speak, and then pulled back at the last moment. 'It's nothing serious,' he said. 'It can wait.'

Pat squeezed his hand. 'You can talk to me,' she assured him.

'I know,' he said. 'Just… not when you're like this. You need to go back on the drip as soon as possible.'

'Albert,' she said insistently. 'Once they have me back on, I'm not going to be lucid again until someone as inexperienced or absent-minded as Rufus forgets my next dose. And I said I know you. If you don't say it now, I know I'm never going to hear it after.'

'My catharsis should not come at the expense of your comfort,' he said.

'Albert, if you don't tell me what's on your mind, I'm going to make it impossible for you to wheel me back to the elevator at the end of the hallway.' Albert still looked unconvinced as he broke eye contact to consider the options. 'Albert,' she repeated. His gaze returned to hers. 'You just saved the lives of just over five hundred people. You can't always be the one helping everyone else. Let me help _you_.'

'Alright,' Albert said softly, and told her everything.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Albert woke feeling different. A huge emotional burden he hadn't even known existed had been lifted from his shoulders. And it wasn't like Pat had counseled him or anything. They had just talked. They had talked in the corridor for an hour, then on the way up the elevator, then outside the EML for another hour, and then even once the drugs were getting pumped into her system. She had been adamant about hearing Albert out the whole way and Rufus hadn't had the guts to go against her. In the end, Pat may have missed some of the final few details as she grew groggier and eventually drifted off to sleep, but, after four hours, she knew more about the choices Albert had made and the thoughts that had been going on in his head than he had ever told Alex or even Natalia.<p>

And perhaps what had helped the entire way was her lack of condemnation. Albert knew what she believed in and what she disapproved of. More than anyone in his water chip retrieval team, she would have had the most objections, more so even than Theresa. Yet she had simply listened to him express his dilemmas and compromises, his certainties and his judgment calls, asking questions but never accusing.

Standing in the shower, Albert wondered whether he _could _really just wash it all away – all the bad choices he had had to make, all the decisions that went against his basic preferences, all the deliberate efforts to deaden himself to the questionable ethics of his actions... Was it possible? Now that it was all over, could he just start over? Could he return to the pre-water chip days?

Not by himself, Albert realized. The difference he felt that morning compared to the night before proved there was only so much he could do by himself. But maybe… maybe there was just the slightest chance something could spark between Pat and himself. He had never thought of her romantically before – there had always been that leader-follower barrier to their relationship dynamic – but now we wondered if thing could be more than what they were. Perhaps she was that anchor that would bring him back from where he had drifted off into an ocean of moral ambiguities. Albert just wasn't sure what _he _would be bringing to the table. Pat had never really seemed like a person in need of someone else. And now Albert knew exactly how Alex had felt and why the younger man had never even tried to get close to her. And speaking of Alex… that might cause some tensions.

A low and then high beep came from the intercom system. It was a private message. Albert toweled off, then returned to his bedroom to hear the message.

'Albert.' It was the Overseer's voice. 'I need you down at the CCC as soon as you're able.' That was the whole message.

Albert threw his head back and sighed in resignation. He had suspected the Overseer would have some kind of issue with the report he had written the previous morning. He just hadn't expected him to get on his case quite so soon.

Albert got dressed and then left to meet the Overseer.

* * *

><p>Jacoren, also known to most of the rest of the Vault as "the Overseer", sat at his raised platform in the central room of the CCC. His gaze was fixed intently on one of the many monitors around him. On the screen was the recordings of a camera located just outside the main outer vault door. With a grim expression on his face, Jacoren watched the three minutes of footage that he had set on a loop. First the knife to the gut, then the blast to the head, then the removal of the corpse to a hidden corner of the cave outside of the camera's view. And to top it all of, Albert had blatantly covered it all up in their conversation the other day.<p>

This… complicated matters. Jacoren knew how important it was to keep the residents of Vault-13 as insulated from the outside world as possible. It was all part of the bigger plan and someday Jacoren knew all his efforts to excise all possible outside influences would pay off. That was his primary job as the Overseer, after all – make sure the Vault Experiment program succeeded. Only a handful of people (himself included) knew that most of the vaults hadn't been built as shelters in the conventional sense. A few had. But others, like Vault-13, had a specific social experimental goal. Vault-13's was simple – stay closed for 200 years. But Jacoren had also heard the recordings from discussions by some of the original Vault-Tec leaders that alluded to other kinds of experiments. Jacoren knew, for instance, that Vault-15 had been filled with people of radically diverging ideologies and had been primed to open in 50 years. No wonder, then, that that schism had erupted, at least from what he had heard from Albert. Then there were other projects that the recordings only mentioned, like the one that had admitted only children fifteen or below, another that had admitted two thousand people – twice the capacity of what a vault could handle, another that had admitted only one female to 999 males, and its counterpart, that had been just the opposite scenario.

Jacoren didn't know what the data would be used for, but when your government assigned you a job of national importance, you did it, with or without all the information. One day, someone would come to collect all the data he, and his successors, would be gathering, and he didn't want to be remembered as the overseer who had wasted two hundred years of data collection for giving in to the demands of a few of his more obstinate residents. But that also meant that this new event was trouble.

The problem with Albert used to be that he was inadvertently undermining the whole Experiment program by pushing for the release of his group from the confines of the Vault. But now, this was something else. The outside world had certainly changed him. Jacoren had known that sending people out to get a new chip was a risk. It had simply been a necessary risk. Without the chip, there would be no more Experiment. But he hadn't expected this. This was the kind of outside stimuli that could change the game – spoil the sample. Jacoren simply didn't know what he was going to do about it, if anything. At least, he realized, after what he was about to tell the man, Albert's potentially harmful influence on the other vault dwellers was a problem Jacoren wouldn't have to worry about just yet.

Albert chose that moment to enter, and Jacoren shutdown the feed to the external camera. As much as he disliked Albert's attempts to undercut his authority, he also didn't like what he was going to have to make Albert do – Albert had done the Vault a great service, after all, unknowingly preserving the very mission of Vault-13's original designers. Plus, Albert was an intelligent and reasonable man. But Jacoren had a responsibility, and that came before any personal sentiments. The job _always _had to come first. Hopefully Albert, from his own limited knowledge of the bigger picture, would recognize that need as well.

'You called for me?' Albert said. Jacoren noticed, with mild annoyance, that the mutt had joined its master for this visit. He didn't let his irritation show.

'I, uh, I just wanted to let you know that the water supply has stabilized,' Jacoren started. This initial awkwardness on his part had been well rehearsed, but it was still genuinely awkward. Jacoren did not like that he was doing this. 'Actually,' he added, 'we're rebuilding our reserves. You did great…' Jacoren sighed. _Here we go_. 'I am a little concerned, however,' he said.

'About what?' Albert asked. On his part, his expression of surprise and confusion was also rehearsed, but it didn't make the question any less genuine.

'I… I don't like your reports,' said Jacoren. 'What was _in _the reports, that is.' He gave a short, nervous laugh. 'In fact, they scared the heck out of me.' Albert still looked confused. 'It's those mutants,' Jacoren clarified. 'And it's not just from your report. I also traded a few words with those merchants you sent with the water supplies. I've done some calculations and, well, I've come to an unpleasant conclusion.'

'What's that?' asked Albert. He had not been expecting this. He had thought the Overseer would criticize him for some of the decisions as group leader (at least the ones he had included in the report). Still, he could understand the Overseer's concern. It _was _rather alarming.

Jacoren sighed again. 'Given the timing, the numbers, and the frequency of their appearances, the mutant population is far greater than could be expected by natural growth or mutations. And I'm particularly talking about this large "super" breed of mutant. This leads me to believe in… I don't really understand it. But it looks like someone's _generating _new mutants. And at a startling rate.'

'We thought that might be a possible explanation as well,' said Albert. 'You're referring to that base that the mutant in Old Town mentioned, aren't you? You think it's a lab of some sorts…'

'Exactly!' said Jacoren.

'You don't think they could have just migrated here recently?'

'Well, you mentioned it yourself – there've been sightings of them years ago. And as you've probably guessed, none of these mutations could have occurred naturally, even with the radiation from the war. _That _kind of radiation either produces those "ghoul" things that you met in that Necropolis place, _or _a whole lot of dead people. Radiation doesn't turn you into a "super" mutant.'

'So… why are you telling me this?' asked Albert.

Jacoren scratched the back of his neck in discomfort. 'You and I are both concerned about the well-being of the vault dwellers here in Vault-13,' he said. 'Now, it's tempting to think that we could just keep doing what we've been doing all the while and let this new problem just blow over.'

'I'd be surprised if that thought hadn't crossed your mind,' said Albert.

'It has,' said Jacoren, 'but here's another. These mutants are _looking _for people like us. And unlike some of the towns you've been to, we don't _have _a lot of weapons to defend ourselves with. If those mutants ever found their way here…'

'But we're much less visible than _any _of those towns,' Albert argued. 'No one knows…' The realization suddenly hit him. People _did _know. Everywhere they had gone, they had told people they were from a vault in the mountains to the northwest. The people of Shady Sands knew it. A few people in Junktown knew it. And, worst of all… the Water Merchants knew _exactly _where Vault-13 was!

Albert covered his mouth to stifle an expletive. How could he have been such an idiot? He had practically painted a long arrow pointing towards the Vault. True, it had been Natalia's idea to begin with, but he had okayed it. Ian had been so right. He _was _naïve! And now it was going to cost everyone he cared about.

'Don't be too harsh on yourself' Jacoren said, trying to comfort Albert. 'You couldn't have known. You did what you thought was best. If you hadn't been lucky enough to find that chip, those ten extra days of water may have been the only thing preventing a complete breakdown of life here in the Vault.'

'They've still got two more runs!' Albert exclaimed, referring to the water caravan.

'No,' Jacoren said. 'After hearing the situation about the mutants from them, I told them to hold off on the remaining twenty days worth unless I sent someone to give them the green light.'

Albert sighed, but it was only partly in relief. The other was stress.

'We're not in the clear, however,' he said grimly. For all the pain Albert had inadvertently caused him and his responsibilities as Overseer, Jacoren pitied Albert for what he was about to tell him. 'You and your friends are the only ones who have any experience with the harshness of the outside world, _including _these mutants,' he said. 'As long as someone is creating hostile mutants at this rate, and as long as someone out there knows where we are, the Vault's safety will continue to be in jeopardy. Albert, I don't know how else to say this, but… for the sake of the entire Vault, we need you to somehow find and destroy this lab.'

'Find and… _destroy _it?' Albert was completely taken aback. 'We barely survived our last encounter with those super mutants!'

'I know,' Jacoren said gently, 'but it was the first time you were facing them, and you didn't have the kind of experience and equipment you have now. You _have _one of their own weapons now. If anyone stands a chance against them, it's you.'

The prospect of going after the mutants at their source was unthinkable to Albert… but, slowly, even as he stood there before the Overseer, the problem came to gnaw at his mind. His first thought was that the chances of the mutants ever discovering them were slim. The mutants weren't _looking _for them, after all. Why bother to go after them even if they did discover their location?

But the answer was painfully simple. So far the mutants had been going after armed caravans of ten, maybe twenty, people at most. And they were armed. How much easier for them would it be if they could just find an undefended vault with over five hundred people? _Too easy_, Albert realized. And what of the chances of discovering the location of Vault-13? Caravans were being raided more frequently now. First it was just the Far Go Traders. Then, most recently, the Crimson Caravan got hit as well. How long more till the Water Merchants lost one of their caravans. And if the super mutants were interrogating prisoners, then it was only too easy for them to learn the location of Vault-13.

Of course, Albert couldn't say for sure if the mutants _would _actually go after a vault, but that was a big risk to take. And Albert slowly realized that, as much as he hated that the Overseer was indirectly using his mistake with the Water Merchants to guilt him into this position, the conditions were already in place. Even without the Overseer's prompting, Albert realized that he couldn't sit idly by while this threat was still present. As crazy as the thought of going on the offensive against super mutants was, he now understood that there simply was no other option that had presented itself. Not yet, at least.

And besides, this had nothing to do with possibility, only principle. Albert knew he had made a mistake with the Water Merchants. Now, like it or not, he had to make amends. He could not stand idly by. If the Vault ever _did _get hit because of his inaction, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Albert closed his eyes and thought back to the morning of less than an hour ago. All the thoughts and hopes of a fresh start… now destroyed in one fell swoop. He sighed inwardly. This was how it had to be.

It was time to get back into the proper frame of mind. Put aside all thought of going back to the way things were before, at least not until this next problem was solved, if ever it could be. And if he was going to have the faintest glimmer of hope of succeeding in this mission, of destroying the source of the super mutants, he was not only going to have to embrace that part of him he was trying to forget, but he would also have to go further. To kill super mutants, he would have to become colder, harder, and harsher.

When he opened his eyes again, his mind was set.

'You're right,' he said to the Overseer. 'I have to do this. But I have one request.'

'What's that?' asked Jacoren.

'Leave my old team out of this. They've been through enough.'

'Actually,' said Jacoren, 'I've already spoken to Miss Dubrovhsky. Just this morning. She and that outsider came by earlier to tell me he was planning to go back to the surface. So it sounds like you may already have one more. Plus, I assume you'll be taking that dog with you…'

Albert sighed and glanced down at Dogmeat. He wasn't sure if Tycho would actually sign on to take on the super mutants, but at least he knew Dogmeat would be with him. Maybe that would be enough. He scratched Dogmeat affectionately behind his ears. Dogmeat craned his neck so Albert's fingers got the right spots.

'Once more unto the breach, dear friends,' he said nostalgically, recalling the quote from a Shakespeare piece he had read ages ago.

To Jacoren, things were turning out exactly as he had hoped, and he was glad Albert was so prepared to do this. But hearing what sounded to him like resigned fatalism made him feel a twinge of guilt.

'You have no idea how sorry I am to send you back out,' he said.

'I know,' said Albert, but he wasn't sure how much he believed it.

* * *

><p>A day later, Albert stood alone with Dogmeat at the door to the airlock. Again, the Overseer had asked for discretion and this time, Albert was only too happy to comply. This time, he wanted to be out before anyone could stop to question him. He didn't want anyone to ask him why he was going out, why it had to be him, and why he wasn't saying goodbye. It was easier this way. And strangely enough, now that he had come to terms with the need for this mission, he realized that it was actually easier on his heart. Way back in December, now two months ago, his mission to leave the Vault had come as a rude shock. He hadn't been ready for it.<p>

But this time it was different. This time it was simpler. There were no lingering questions about why he was going out there without the rest of his Exodus group to back him up like there were the first time round. There was no countdown on his PIPBoy telling him that the Vault would essentially go to hell in a handbasket if he didn't succeed in his mission in time. Failure would be if a squad of super mutants found and decided to pay the Vault a personal visit. As scary as that prospect was, it didn't seem like it was an impending doom waiting just over the horizon.

As he stood by the door, waiting for the Overseer to grant remote access to the door, Albert heard the elevator behind him arrive. He turned to see Natalia and Tycho, both with their full packs, ready to travel. He couldn't help but smile at the proximity between the two of them. They were definitely walking closer to each other than they ever had before. And if that wasn't enough evidence of something brewing between them, their joint decision to accompany him on his next mission certainly was.

Albert had spoken with Tycho and Natalia the previous day, telling them about the Overseer's new task. They had been surprised at the nature of the task but, at the same time, had also come to understand that there really was little other alternative. If safety was the priority, then the mutant threat _had _to be solved. Without Albert even asking, the two had shared a glance with each other and then volunteered to join him on the spot. And they weren't doing it for the Vault. Both were happy to leave the Vault and its people behind. Tycho never belonged to it and Natalia… _also _never really belonged to it. Albert realized that, in fact, they were doing it for him. Why, he could only guess. His emotional impulse was to tell them to stay out of it, if nothing then for their own sakes. The rational part of him that now took precedence told him that they were among the most capable people he had ever known and if they wanted to join up, it could only improve the chances of his mission succeeding.

To Natalia and Tycho, the answer for signing on was simple. Albert had given up so much of himself to guide the team to success in the last mission, and, personally, he had nothing to show for it. He had changed, and not for the better. They, on the other hand, had found each other. It seemed wrong to them that he had taken the worst of it and was now going back into the deep end. There was no way they'd let him do it on his own. Tycho's sense of honor and Natalia's lingering affection demanded they help.

Soon after them came Alex, much to Albert's surprise. He was still missing the majority of his right ear, but he had had a modern prosthetic attached at the joint where part of his first finger had been lopped off by the laser rifle. It was nowhere as flexible as a natural index finger, but it would at least allow him to perform tasks that required the use of such a finger, such as pulling a trigger.

'I can't believe you didn't tell me about this!' Alex scolded. 'After everything I told you about my plans, you were still going to leave me behind!'

'Alex,' he said, 'this next task… it's not computers and water chips.'

'Like I said, skills I can learn. And that's not the point, anyway. You pulled me in to the group the first time. Now, like it or not, I'm in till the bitter end.'

'And I suppose you told him?' Albert said to Natalia.

Before she could respond, the elevator arrived again and out came Theresa.

'You're not coming too, are you?' Albert said. The absence of a pack or traveling clothes of her own showed she wasn't. They both knew she had come to make sure they departed as friends.

'Just wanted to wish you the best, and to tell you that I'll take good care of the group till you come back,' she said.

'Your confidence in my return seems to have increased in inverse proportion to my chances of success compared to the last task,' he joked.

She smiled, leaned in, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, for old times' sake. 'You've already done so much for us, and you're still doing more,' she said. 'It's not… it's not fair. And if I could, I'd—'

'That wouldn't be a good idea,' said Albert, knowing she was on the verge of volunteering. He gave her a knowing smile.

She returned the smile. 'Just… stay safe,' she said.

'No promises,' he said. 'You know me. But like I said two days ago, the group is yours now. You're in charge. You and Pat. You don't answer to me anymore.' He turned back to Natalia. 'Who else did you tell?' he asked resignedly. His plans to sneak off were rapidly going up in smoke. 'I already spoke to my parents, if that's your concern.'

The elevator doors chimed again and this time, Albert's heart did a little leap at the sight of the woman in the wheelchair. Rufus pushed her out into the lobby towards him.

Albert watched her as she neared, not knowing how to react. She had a sad smile on her face.

'Seems like you're new job is to be the hero of Vault-13,' she said. Even the joke was bittersweet. She turned to Rufus who slowly helped her to her feet.

'What are you doing?' Albert asked uncertainly.

She hobbled the last step towards him and gently put her arms around him in a warm embrace.

Natalia, the most observant of the lot, couldn't fail to notice how Albert's arms instinctively went out to return the hug and then jerk to a stop as he caught himself. She frowned, concerned, as Albert forced his arms to drop back to his side.

Pat must have noticed his lack of response but she gave no indication of her reaction.

'Come back safe,' she said into his ear. 'The Vault will be an emptier place without its savior.'

'You just get well,' he replied. 'And stay in bed more often.'

As the doors to the airlock closed on them, Pat and Theresa were left watching their friends once again brave the wasteland to ensure the safety of the people of Vault-13.

'Did you manage to get a look at the report Alex pilfered from the classified library records?' Theresa asked Pat as the last glimpse of their friends was cut off by the closing doors.

'I did,' Pat answered. 'Makes you wonder, doesn't it?'

'What?' Theresa asked. 'Why the Overseer would send them on such a wild goose chase?'

'No,' Pat replied. 'It does seem like he's looking out for the safety of the Vault. I just wonder who he thinks the real enemy is…'

* * *

><p>From his seat on the Overseer's platform, Jacoren watched the screen showing the feed from the external Vault camera. Albert and his team were leaving once more. Jacoren gave a satisfied sigh of relief. As distasteful as it was to send the saviors of Vault-13 back out into harm's way, he knew he had just preserved the integrity of his mission and the Vault Experiment program. And, in the end, that was all that mattered.<p> 


	19. Chapter 18: The Underground

Apologies for the long wait. Unfortunately, it's not going to get much better for the next few months. At least until January, my writing may slow down to something like one chapter in 6 or 7 weeks.

Anyway, here it is. I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter but I don't think I can afford to let it sit for much longer. I don't think it's bad. It just feels a bit like filler, to me at least. Maybe it'll seem just fine to you. In any case, for the sake of progress, I'm going to just keep pushing forward rather than mope.

Also, I clumsily said this chapter was going to be called 'Underworld'. The correct term is 'the Underground' for those of you who are as (or more) particular about canonical details as I am.

The next chapter may or may not be called 'The Brotherhood of Steel'.

**Chapter Eighteen: The Underground  
><strong>

'This feels wrong,' said Natalia, as the group stood in the doorway of the empty house that had once belonged to Ian.

'It's what he would have wanted,' said Albert. 'Besides, look at it this way. If this house remains vacant for too long, raiders or some other miscreants will take it over.'

'Actually, I'm surprised it hasn't been done already,' said Tycho.

The group walked in. Inside, the place was just as they had left it except with more dust on the furniture.

'Why don't you two settle in first?' Albert suggested to Natalia and Tycho. 'Take stock of our supplies, get the place in order… Alex and I will head downtown to pay Butch a visit – see what they've been doing about our super mutant problem.'

Since leaving the Vault, the group had been discussing possible scenarios for tackling the mutant issue. They all knew that going head-to-head with the supermutants was lunacy. Even if they managed to find one or both of the mutant bases, there would be no way that the four of them (plus one dog) could possibly do anything about it. That meant that they needed allies. And right then, Butch was probably the only one they knew who was aware of the mutant threat and _possibly _had the ability to do something about it.

The plan was amenable to everyone and soon Albert, Alex, and Dogmeat were off, leaving the house to Natalia and Tycho. Opening up all the packs, the couple began to take an inventory of their food supplies and ammunition.

'So what are we going to do after this?' asked Natalia.

'You're that confident we're going to make it through this…' Tycho observed.

'Of course,' Natalia replied. 'We're just going after two bases packed with super mutants armed with futuristic weapons. What's so difficult about that?' Natalia paused before dropping the façade. '_If _we make it out of this, what are we going to do? You and I, I mean.'

'Well, we'll have to wait and see, won't we? You may change your mind about me by the end…'

'Don't say that.' Natalia gave Tycho a serious look. 'You're not second to anybody. Not Albert or anyone else.'

'I guess I'm just incredibly lucky, then,' Tycho grinned at her.

'You better believe it,' Natalia shot back.

The two of them returned to taking stock, Tycho at the dining table, Natalia on the floor in the living room. Tycho had just finished with the 12-gauge shells and was starting on the .44 JHPs when a soft pack of field rations smacked him in the back of the head.

'What the—' He turned to find Natalia staring up at him from her spot on the floor, a cheeky grin plastered on her face.

'I don't really want to count supplies right now, do you?' she said, dropping her work and walking over to him.

'It's important work,' Tycho retorted playfully. 'They're counting on us, y'know? The key to every group effort is logistics, logistics, logistics.'

'It'll hold,' said Natalia. 'It's at least a four-hour walk from here to the Far Go Traders and back. We have time.' With that she slowly and seductively mounted Tycho's lap, straddling his thighs as she leaned in to kiss him.

'Now might not be the best time for this,' Tycho replied, but he returned the kiss anyway.

'Now is the _perfect _time for this,' Natalia insisted before she silenced any further reply from him with her lips.

A distinct click from just outside the main doorway to the house made them both freeze. It was unmistakable. It was the sound of a bullet being chambered.

'Maybe now's not the best time for this,' Natalia echoed Tycho's earlier sentiment. Tycho nodded. They reached for their weapons and quietly took cover as the handle to the main door of the house slowly turned.

* * *

><p>'You've done nothing?' Albert said in disbelief as he stood beside Alex in Butch's office. Above them, hanging from the top of the doorway was the large skeletal claw that had once belonged to the Deathclaw.<p>

'Now that's not true,' Butch protested. 'All the caravan groups have upped their security details. The Committee's decided to pull out some of our heavier weaponry to arm the city's guards. No mutants are gonna be taking _us_ without a fight.'

Albert shook his head in exasperation. 'Are you forgetting that there's an outpost out there fullof these things? And we have reason to believe that there may even be _two _bases, at least one of which may be churning out those mothers.'

'You don't know that, for sure, though, do you?' Butch challenged.

'Everyone I've spoken to who knows anything worth anything has said as much. It's not going to be enough just to barricade yourselves in and add a few more guns to your caravans. They're breeding an _army _out there.'

'Where's your proof?' Butch asked, persistent in his denial.

'Look at this!' Albert pointed at the claw dangling from the doorway. 'That there's proof that crazy things _do _exist in this crazy wasteland. And if you don't do anything about it, those crazy things are going to trample this city into the dust and all you'll have left will be your broken dreams.'

Butch scoffed. 'We're tougher than we look,' he said confidently.

'That's not saying much,' Albert retorted, his sarcastic jab completely lost on the merchant leader. 'Look. Get me a hearing with the City Council. I'll explain the situation to them. You can just remain here and admire your trophy. I'll do all the talking.'

'Albert, I appreciate what you've done for us,' Butch said patronizingly, 'but this conversation is over. The Committee came to a decision weeks ago. You people are guns-for-hire, and, I'll admit, you guys are good at what you do. I heard what you did over in Junktown. Impressive stuff. But this is city adminiss… admm… city planning. We can't just round up all our guards and go marching off to war against an enemy that may not even exist. There's politics involved here, Albert. Everything has its repercc… its effects. If you were in my position, you'd understand.'

'I understand enough,' said Albert through gritted teeth. 'I understand that you'd rather sit there and pretend everything's just fine – just like how it used to be. Well it's not. Ian was killed by one of those super mutants. Burned to a crisp by a flamethrower. These mutants are well-armed and increasing in numbers. One day, you're gonna find that out. I just hope you guys are ready when the storm finally hits.'

With that, Albert marched out, followed closely by Alex and Dogmeat.

'Not very diplomatic,' Alex commented when they were outside the Far Go Traders' offices.

'I know,' Albert apologized. 'I normally have more cards in my hand when I'm trying to win someone over. For all his pig-headedness, Butch _is _right. We don't have a whole lot of proof except testimonies of people whom Butch wouldn't exactly consider reliable witnesses.'

'Sounds like proof to me,' said Alex. 'If you don't mind me asking, what _were _you hoping for from them?'

'I don't know,' Albert sighed. 'A little more involvement, at the very least. I've said it before and I'll say it again. We can't do this one on our own, Alex. I'm still hoping for a more elegant solution to our problem, but however it is that we're going to tackle this mutant issue, we're gonna need help – preferably lots of people with lots of guns.'

'Well what about those Brotherhood people?' Alex suggested. '_They've_ got firepower.'

'Yeah, and they sacrifice puppies, if the rumors are correct.'

'Hey, leave the sarcasm to me, alright? Besides, even if it were somehow true, it may not hurt having some puppy-killing sons-of-bitches at our backs if we're going up against giant mutants.'

'Welllll…' Albert paused to give it a serious thought. 'We've got no other leads… I _guess_ that's as good a next step as any. Let's just hope they're not in the habit of shooting first and asking questions later.'

* * *

><p>It was just after sunset when the two men and Dogmeat made it back to the house on the outskirts. The first thing they noticed was the partially open door. Their senses on the alert, they approached the house slowly. Albert got his laser rifle ready and then nodded to Alex who moved over to the side of the door, his hand moving to the door handle.<p>

'Natalia? Tycho?' Alex called in through the gap in the open doorway. He glanced back at Albert as he lit a flare. Albert nodded. With one push, Alex threw the door open and hurled the flare in. Albert stared down the sights of his rifle into an empty corridor.

'Go,' said Albert. His own handgun drawn, Alex went in and checked the rooms on either side while Albert covered the open corridor.

'It's empty,' said Alex after a few moments.

Albert walked in but stopped as his foot landed on a wet patch on the floor. By the light of the flare, he bent down and touched the wetness with his fingers. They came away red.

A quick look around showed evidence of a gun fight with many more bloodstains scattered around the house.

'Over here,' said Alex gravely, walking over to the note on the very same table where he had once found Marissa's note to Ian. He opened it up and the two men read it together.

**Albert,**

**You are cordially invited to a small get-together in the Maltese Falcon on Barstow Rd, Downtown. We have heard great things about your skills and exploits and would like to negotiate terms to procure your services for us. When you reach the Falcon, ask the bartender for Kane. Come when you are able. Your friends are eagerly waiting to see you again.**

**K**

'We seem to have gotten ourselves a fan-base,' Alex joked grimly.

'Grab your things, we're headed out,' said Albert a moment after he had finished reading.

Another two hours later, they were back in the downtown area of the Hub. The plan was for Alex to hang around near the general stores and to try to seek help from the police if Albert didn't return by midnight, for whatever good that would do. Albert left his laser rifle with Alex and Dogmeat before heading down the street to the pub.

From outside, the Maltese Falcon seemed like a very welcoming and inviting place. Ample light powered by unseen generators spilled out from the many windows of the bar. From inside came the sounds of boisterous conversations and even some sort of folk music.

Inside, the place was crowded enough that Albert initially had trouble finding the bartender. Heading away from the crowds, Albert finally found the bar and requested for Kane.

He had not been waiting long when a firm hand clasped itself on his shoulder. Albert turned to find himself face-to-face with a dark-haired man dressed all in black with heavily greased hair.

'You must be Albert,' said the man. 'We've heard a lot about you.'

'You must be Kane,' Albert replied. 'I've heard nothing of _you_.'

Kane chuckled. 'Would you care to join me in the private rooms below? My employer has been waiting a long time to meet you.'

'Y'know, I knew a Kane over in Necropolis,' Albert said as he followed Kane through a side door behind the bar to a set of steps that led down into the basement. 'Have to say, he was a nicer fellow. Less… greasy.'

Kane laughed again but less readily this time. 'Yes, I heard of your search for your water chip in Necropolis,' he said, ignoring Albert's jab. 'The fact that you're still alive and here would suggest that your mission was a success then, yes? That's quite an impressive feat you pulled off, making it in and out of the City of the Dead. And then there was your handling of Gizmo, your team's victory over the Deathclaw… you've got quite a lot of accolades to your name.'

'And you've got quite a lot of ears to the ground,' Albert commented.

'We like to keep tabs on the movers and shakers in this part of the world,' said Kane.

'So what does your boss want me to do, exactly?' Albert asked as they walked down a dark corridor.

'It's not skag work,' said Kane, 'but don't worry, we're businessmen.'

They emerged from the passageway into a study lit only by a small table lamp on the desk in the middle of the room. A tall, imposing man wearing a brown woolen sweater over a black shirt sat comfortably at the desk. All around the room were armed guards. Most had pistols. One particularly large guard was armed with what looked like a sledgehammer. The man at the desk gave Albert a cool smile and gestured for him to take the chair at the opposite side of the desk. Albert walked over to the chair, giving his host a second visual appraisal.

The man had tall thuggish features. Short, cropped dark-brown hair with a prominent widow's peak, squarish features, a long solid jaw-line, deep-set eyes under a stern brow, and a growing five-o'clock shadow. The only accessories he wore were two gold earrings around the helix of his right ear, and two rings on his left hand, one on the middle and the other on the ring finger.

'I don't see my friends here,' Albert said as if their presence were something that was owed to him.

'In time,' said the man in a deep and measured voice. 'You must be wondering why you're here.'

'I _know _why I'm here,' said Albert. 'You've taken my friends captive so you can get me to do your dirty work. I know blackmail when I see it.'

'I wouldn't put it so crudely,' the man replied, 'but I suppose I can trust that assessment coming from you. After all, isn't that the arrangement you have with the one you call Iguana Bob?'

The man's revelation of his knowledge of the situation with Iguana Bob hit Albert hard but he did his best not to show his surprise.

'Relax,' said the man, seeing through Albert's pretense. 'Knowledge of your dealings with Mr. Fillmore will not leave this room. Ahh, but where are my manners? I am Decker, owner of this humble establishment and the organization running it. We simply call ourselves "the Underground". And you must be Albert. How is your friend, Alex, taking the absence of Natalia and Tycho?'

'He's fine,' said Albert tersely, again taken by surprise that this man, Decker, knew the names of every one of his group members.

'Well, the pleasantries are now concluded,' said Decker. 'Do you wish to hear about the job?'

'You don't offer me much of an alternative,' said Albert.

'Hmm,' Decker murmured in agreement with a tight-lipped smile. 'Background: There's a certain merchant who's… how to phrase this… not cooperating fully with the Underground.'

'Why don't you kidnap _his _friends?'

Decker chuckled. 'He doesn't have any.'

'And the job?'

'Quite simple. Hunt down the merchant and his wife and exterminate them.'

'You expect me to kill some innocent person I've never met?' Albert scoffed.

'Come now, Albert,' said Decker smiling knowingly. 'We both know that's something you do well. And Mr. Hightower is hardly what I'd call "innocent". Abusing one's monopoly over the one thing humanity can't do without isn't exactly fair trading, is it?'

'What do you mean?' asked Albert.

'The Water Merchants,' Decker explained. 'Mr. Daren Hightower is the head merchant of that group – the very same one that had you scrambling to pay for an overpriced caravan to send water to your home in the mountains. Hightower lives in the Heights, on Barter Street and Thunder Avenue. In fact, I do believe your lady friend, Natalia, once paid a visit there to steal an expensive necklace, if I'm not mistaken.'

'And you expect me to just walk in there and put a bullet in both their heads?'

'I expect you'll find a way. That's what you do, after all, is it not?'

'That still leaves one unanswered question. Where are my friends? I need proof that they're still alive and well. Your boys left a lot of blood in that house.'

'All the blood of incompetent and lesser men whose services I fortunately am no longer obliged to pay for. As for your friends, the cost they inflicted upon my payroll has been repaid.'

'What does that mean exactly?' Albert said with some foreboding.

'It's nothing they won't recover from if you do as asked,' said Decker.

'I may have knocked out a tooth or two,' Kane added.

Albert clenched his fist but kept his tongue in check. 'I want to see them before I agree to anything,' he said.

'Of course,' said Decker. 'If you're willing to wait for a half hour or so, we'll bring you proof they're alive… maybe a finger. Or perhaps something a bit more recognizable. If I recall, your Russian friend has beautiful grey eyes.'

Albert didn't say anything. He had nothing to bargain with and he knew it.

'Kane will give you more details on the way out,' said Decker.

* * *

><p>Alex was as disheartened as Albert had been when he finally heard the news.<p>

'We're not actually going to go through with this, though, are we?' he asked.

'No,' Albert replied.

'But what then?' Alex pushed. 'We can't just do nothing.'

'We may need a little help on this one,' came the reply.

Almost an hour later, the two men found themselves outside a door to one of the many deteriorating houses in Old Town.

'This is it?' Alex asked skeptically.

'This is where she said it would be,' Albert replied before knocking loudly on the door. It took awhile but eventually they were greeted by a particularly unfriendly voice on the other side.

'Who is it? What do you want?' they heard the voice of a belligerent old woman. 'I got a shotgun with me,' she warned.

'We're not here to steal anything from you,' said Albert. 'We're looking for the Thieves' Circle. It's important.'

'There ain't no such Circle here. Go away!'

They heard the patter of steps fading from the other side of the door.

'Wait!' Albert shouted. 'It's about Natalia! She's in trouble and we need to find her!'

There was a long pause before the door opened. The old lady, looking none too happy at the news, let them in and then took them below through a gamut of obstacles – the same ones Natalia once had to navigate in order to retrieve her stolen money pouch – to the main room where they were greeted by the head of the Thieves' Circle himself.

'That sounds nasty, alright,' Loxley said gravely when they had told him everything that had happened.

'So will you help us?' asked Albert.

'Going up against the kingpin of the Underworld is not something we as an organization are able or willing to do,' Loxley explained.

'But she's _part_ of your organization,' Alex protested. 'You can't just let leave her to Decker's thugs!'

'And don't forget that even if we do as Decker asks, your people are going to suffer as well,' Albert added. 'If we take out Hightower, that's the end of the status quo for you. No more diamond necklaces or whatever else it is you've been taking off the Water Merchants.'

'Even so,' said Loxley, 'you're asking me to put the safety of the entire Thieves' Circle on the line. If Decker so much as recognizes any one of us, you can be sure we'll be next on his hit list. So, no, I will not commit my fellow brothers and sisters to an assault on Decker's thugs. The risk of a reprisal is too high—'

'I guess there really _is _no honor amongst thieves,' Alex muttered.

'_But_…' Loxley said, gritting his teeth at the insult, 'My thieves operate throughout the city. They know everything that goes on in the Hub, even things that slip past Decker's notice. I may not be willing to partake in assaulting Decker and his thugs directly, but I _will_ help you find Natalia and your other friend.'

* * *

><p>'So what do they actually want from us?' Tycho said out loud as himself, Natalia, and their fellow prisoner sat in the small backroom, their only source of light a small window too high up for them to get a view of the street outside. Natalia was staunching the flow of blood from a split lip and a heavily bruised cheek using an old pillow case. Their other companion was, in the meantime, wrapping strips of a ripped up bedsheet around Tycho's bare midsection where he had been unfortunate enough to receive most of the physical abuse Decker's men had dealt him. Tycho was just glad Decker's right hand man, Kane, had only decided to resort to the spiked knuckle dusters at the <em>end <em>of the battering session.

The damaged gums, where his tooth had broken off, began bleeding again and Tycho reinserted a half blood-soaked rag into his mouth, biting down on it to apply pressure to the wound.

'If I know Decker, he's using the two of you as leverage,' said the young man, who had introduced himself as Erwin. 'If I had to guess, I'd say he's keeping the two of you hostage so he can get your two other friends to do some sort of dirty work that would otherwise implicate the Underground.'

'What _does _the Underground do anyway?' asked Natalia.

'Whatever it needs to get as much power in the Hub as possible without appearing to do so, not officially at least. Most people in the Hub say _he_ runs this place, not the merchants or the police.'

'And he does it all from the Maltese Falcon…' Natalia stated.

'Not always,' said Erwin. 'I had a friend who used to own it before Decker. In fact, my ties to Johnny was probably how they found me in the first place.'

'Wait a minute,' said Tycho, spitting out the red-soaked rag from his mouth. '_Used _to own it?'

'Yeah, Decker wanted it really bad, but my friend wouldn't sell,' Erwin explained. 'Two days later they found him dead in a back alley here in Old Town.'

'What makes you think Decker was responsible?' asked Natalia.

'My friend was a clean freak,' said Erwin. 'He wouldn't come within a hundred yards of Old Town. He was shot with a magnum. No one in Old Town can afford one of those. Plus, he was shot once in the head and twice in the back. Does that sound like a robbery?' Erwin sighed. 'My friend was just trying to get his life back.'

'Get his life back?' Natalia asked.

'You probably won't understand this, coming from a vault and all,' said Erwin, 'but most of the people in the Hub look forward to the day when they own their own lives – when those lives don't belong to the merchants or the money lenders.'

'How did you know I'm from a Vault?'

'You're wearing a PIPBoy. That's standard vault-issue… unless you killed a vault dweller and took it, that is.'

'Are you some sort of dealer in rare merchandise?' Tycho queried.

'You said you had a friend here,' Natalia said to Erwin. 'You were from the Hub?'

'I'm with the Brotherhood now,' said Erwin simply.

'The Brotherhood of Steel?' Tycho said with a mixture of respect and surprise.

'That's why Decker's interested in me, or rather at the information he believes I have.'

'What were you doing back in the Hub?' asked Natalia.

'People in the Brotherhood do all kinds of jobs,' Erwin explained. 'I'm just an initiate so I get tasked with simpler jobs, in this case assessing the Hub's military readiness.'

'What for?' asked Tycho.

Erwin shrugged. 'If I knew I wouldn't be at liberty to say.'

'Is that what Decker's after?' Tycho pushed.

'I doubt Decker knows anything substantial about the Brotherhood aside from the fact that we're even more secretive than the Underground and _way _more technologically advanced. If he knew anything worth anything, he wouldn't have gone after an initiate like me. The only technology I see on a regular basis as an initiate are old pre-War movies.'

'Who _would _he have gone after?' asked Natalia.

'Someone higher up the chain… if he could find such a person.'

'So they're just… what?... torturing you for _any _information about the Brotherhood?' said Tycho, pointing at the recent wounds and blood stains on Erwin's brow and face.

'Well, they've got _some _idea about the Brotherhood and its plans now,' said Erwin, 'it's just not a very accurate one.'

'What about the Brotherhood's plans concerning the super mutants?' Natalia deliberately let slip.

'You know about them…' Erwin stated.

'Who doesn't?' Tycho said rhetorically. 'Their appearances around the Wasteland have been growing more frequent lately. How long have you been _in_ here anyway?'

'Weeks, perhaps months,' Erwin sighed painfully. 'Look, here's what I can tell you. First, I'm just an initiate so I don't know anything about the Brotherhood's plans even if I _were _allowed to let you in on them. But I do have friends who are part of patrols sent out to investigate super mutant sightings. We even managed to capture a live one a couple of months back.'

Both Natalia and Tycho's eyebrows raised at that revelation.

'Y'know, it sounds a lot like our interests are aligned,' said Natalia. 'Our Overseer sent us out to find a solution to this very problem. Do you think your Brotherhood would be willing to work with us on finding a solution?'

Erwin shrugged. 'You could try, I suppose,' he said, 'but I'll tell you in advance that we're not awfully big on outsiders.'

'If we get you out of here, will you help us?' asked Natalia.

'Well, I'll certainly put in a good word for you,' said Erwin, 'but I'm just a small fish. My good word may not be worth squat. But how are you planning to get me out of here anyway?'

'Well, I can get this door open no problem,' said Natalia, producing a few of her lock picks that she had hidden on the inside of her sleeve. 'The only issue is doing it without the thugs in the next room finding out.'

* * *

><p>While Natalia, Tycho, and Erwin discussed possible plans, Albert, Alex, and Dogmeat were, in the meantime, watching the rear of the building from across the street in another abandoned house. Loxley had been as good as his word. In under three hours, one of his thieves had returned, reporting that some of Decker's men had recently taken as hostage two people – a bald man and a dark-haired woman – in one of the houses in Old Town, west of the hideout of the Thieves' Circle.<p>

The lone thug patrolling the circumference of the building passed around the back once again before turning the corner and moving out of sight once more.

'Why can't we just pop him the next time he comes around the back? No one else is actually watching this alley,' said Alex.

Albert shook his head. 'If there's the slightest commotion and the people inside hear it, we won't get a second chance. Same thing if one of them in the front realizes the guard's stopped making his rounds. Just stick to the plan. It'll be more time consuming but safer.'

They waited until the patrolling guard came back around the rear of the building. Then, once he had turned the corner out of sight, Albert and Alex set their timers and made their move.

* * *

><p>'Do you hear that?' Natalia asked the other two men in the room at the sudden sound of voices from outside the window.<p>

'Sounds like… Albert and Alex,' said Tycho in surprise.

Natalia walked over to the high ventilation window and paused. She waited awhile, trying to make out the conversation that was going on just outside. The content of their random superficial conversation was inconsequential. Natalia knew that since they couldn't see into the room, they had to try and make their presence known without alerting any potential nearby hostiles.

'You can drop the act,' Natalia said out the window. 'We're all clear on this side.'

'We've got about three-and-a-half minutes to talk before the guard comes around again,' said Albert. 'Here's the plan…'

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later, Natalia finished her countdown, nodded to Tycho, and then walked up to the door. She knocked hard.<p>

'Hello!' she called.

'What!' came an annoyed voice from outside the door.

'We've been in here for hours already,' Natalia complained. 'I need to…' she left the rest unsaid.

'Use the bucket,' said the voice.

'What! I'm locked in here with two men, in case you hadn't realized!' Natalia glanced down at the digital time readout on her PIPBoy. She just needed to keep the guy in front of the door for another minute or so until Albert and Alex were in position.

'Tough luck, lady,' the man outside replied. 'We were given specific orders… Unless you'd prefer to get comfy with the rest of us out _here _that is. Maybe we could work something—'

Even through the door, Natalia heard the muted sound of the laser blast from across the street. She heard a grunt and then the thud of the man outside the door crumpling to the floor.

A split second later, gunfire rang out. It was as Albert had predicted. Once they realized they were under attack, the guards inside became too busy returning fire and taking cover to think of executing their prisoners – which gave Natalia the perfect opportunity to get to work on the door lock.

It took her longer than she would have liked, partly due to her nerves, but she eventually got the door unlocked. Shots were still being traded between Albert and Alex, on the one side, and the thugs on the other. That meant no one had heard her unlock the door.

'Ready?' Natalia said to Tycho as her hand gripped the doorknob. Tycho nodded. 'One. Two. Three!'

Natalia pulled the door inwards, widening the gap just enough for Tycho to reach out and grab the fallen guard just outside. Albert's plan had worked. Not only were the guards distracted by his and Alex's fire but now Natalia and Tycho had a nearby body to search for weapons.

'What's the delay?' she hissed when Tycho took a second longer to return.

Tycho came back into the room, allowing her to shut the door behind him. He showed her the reason for his holdup. In his hands he carried a black Winchester City-Killer 12-gauge combat shotgun. Tycho couldn't help but grin.

'Always wanted one of these,' he said, almost as giddy as a child with a new toy.

'Good for you,' Natalia said, not as impressed. 'You ready to use it?'

'They knocked my tooth out. You bet your ass I'm ready!'

A flurry of bullets from a submachine gun suddenly peppered the door, causing Natalia to pull back her hand sharply from the door handle as the wood splintered into pieces. The barrage stopped for a second.

'Are you okay?' Tycho asked from the other side of the doorframe, genuine concern evident in his voice. 'Were you hit?'

Natalia looked down at her bleeding arm. 'It's not bad,' she said. 'It's just splinters from the wood.'

Another burst of fire opened up bigger holes in the door. The door grew so perforated that the bullets were flying clean through the doorway and into wall.

They waited until the gunfire stopped. Then Tycho swung the barrel of the shotgun through the largest hole in the door, took a moment to aim, and squeezed the trigger. The shotgun roared and their attacker slumped against the wall. There came a pause in the gunfire as the other guards in the room realized what had happened.

Tycho reached for the door handle and got up from where he had been crouching. He was about to pull the door open when he paused and turned to Natalia and Erwin.

'Stay put. I'll be back,' he said with a straight face. Then he pulled the door open and strode out into the room beyond.

'I don't think he realized what he just said,' Erwin commented to Natalia. Natalia gave Erwin a knowing smile in return. She was going to have to educate Tycho a little more on pre-War pop culture.

In the room outside, the two thugs were pinned. From across the street outside, a beam of laser burnt a hole near where one of the thugs was taking cover. He stuck his SMG over the nearest windowsill and fired blindly. That distraction cost him.

Tycho entered the room, firing from the hip. The one remaining thug who hadn't been distracted managed to get off three rounds from his weapon, but the hole blasted into his chest forced the three bullets to spray wildly off into the ceiling. Tycho waited for half a second until the last thug realized he was doomed. By the time the man had pulled his SMG back from the window to fire at the escaped prisoner, Tycho had already unloaded three shells into the man's body. The man collapsed against the wall, then slid slowly to the floor. That left the one patrolling guard on the outside.

As if he had known what Tycho was thinking, Albert yelled from across the street. 'Dogmeat got the last one! I think we're in the clear for now!'

* * *

><p>'So what now?' asked Alex when the group had reassembled after the gunfight. Albert applied one of their stimpaks to Tycho and then to Natalia. It was clear from their appearance that Decker's men had done several numbers on them. The damage seemed mostly superficial but Albert decided not to take a chance. With all the hits Tycho had taken, including the lost tooth, the pummeling to his torso, and the gouge in his left high, there was a real risk he might have suffered some sort of internal damage. As for Natalia, half her face was starting to swell from the punches she had taken over and over again. If nothing else, the administered chems in the stimpak would help speed up her recovery.<p>

'Decker will eventually learn about what happened here,' Albert said in response to Alex's question. 'And if he's anything like Gizmo was, you can bet he's not going to let this slide. So we have two options. Either make ourselves scarce _soon_, or we take the fight to him.'

'Running won't help,' said Erwin. 'Trust me, I tried. He'll never stop chasing you. You've just made a statement by breaking your "contract" with him. Decker can't let that kind of thing go unpunished. It makes him look weak.'

'He underestimated us,' said Alex. 'Now we've got the element of surprise on our side. I say we use it.'

'Let's not underestimate _him_,' Natalia cautioned. 'Holed up in that den of his, he'll be like a caged deathclaw. _And _he'll be in his element. Storming that cellar won't be like attacking the Khans' camp, _even if_ luck is on our side again.'

'Does anyone know of other ways in or out of the basement of the Maltese Falcon?' Albert asked out loud.

'When they brought us in to see Decker, it was through a back entrance to the kitchens,' said Natalia.

'The problem is that it's in an enclosed and walled-off space – a loading and unloading dock,' said Tycho. 'It'll be heavily guarded.'

'We won't be going in that way,' said Albert.

'What do you mean?' asked Tycho. 'It's either that or barge through the front door, and I don't think Natalia or myself are going to be able to be much help there in our current condition.'

'We won't be going in at all, actually,' Albert stated simply. Everyone except Alex stared at him.

At that moment, they heard the footsteps of someone headed in their direction.

'Just in time,' Albert said with a note of satisfaction in his voice. 'Now that Sheriff Greene is here to finish building his casebook on Decker, perhaps, for the record, the three of you might like to narrate to him the events leading up to your recent capture.'

'Not during?' asked Erwin.

'I think the evidence scattered all over this place should speak for itself,' said Albert with a cursory glance at the corpses, weapons, and torture devices lining the walls.

* * *

><p>When half a dozen Hub officers barged into the basement of the Maltese Falcon, Decker was hardly surprised. Greene and his men lacked finesse. He had heard them storming the upper floors for the past two-and-a-half minutes and, judging by the persistent gunfire, they were still at it.<p>

The six officers were all armed, either with assault rifles or handguns. Leading the way was Greene himself, dressed in a full long-sleeved body suit over which he had on a dark green armor plated vest that covered his entire chest and upper abdomen, complete with large pauldrons over his shoulders. On his head he had on a matching helmet with a polarized visor. It was one of those pre-War military models that virtually every United States soldier had worn into battle. In this day and age, though, it was a little too ostentatious, even for Decker's dramatic tastes.

'How good to see you Sheriff Greene!' Decker said in welcome, his voice as stony and cold as ever. If Greene and his men were cowed by Decker's confidence and calm, they didn't show it. 'Have you come to arrest me?' Decker sounded almost amused.

'Oh, we're beyond _that_, Decker,' said Greene with just as much confidence. 'Based on the evidence we've been gathering, you're _already _guilty as charged. I'm just expediting the sentence.'

'Ah, I see,' Decker said, still as calm as ever. 'You've come to say your goodbyes, then.'

On cue, Kane hit the trigger switch that activated four smoke canisters already primed and set around the room. As black plumes billowed into every crevice of the room, the last glimpse that Greene caught of Decker was of the man calmly fitting a half mask over his nose and mouth and stepping backwards into the smoke. Then gunfire erupted from all corners of the room.

* * *

><p>Outside, more of Greene's men waited with the vault dwellers right outside the back entrance. Those of Decker's men who had been guarding the back lot had already been forcefully removed from the vicinity and all the was left was to wait for the Sheriff to forced Decker out.<p>

As the smoke started swirling out the entrance to the kitchens, they all raised their weapons, waiting for the first of Decker's men to emerge. From across the street, Tycho and Natalia watched the scene from a window on the second floor of an old library. Tycho had Albert's laser rifle resting against the window sill, ready to snipe the first one of Decker's men lucky enough to escape the welcoming party.

Aside from the sound of gunfire, no one emerged for the first fifteen seconds. But when a familiar looking figure burst out of the entrance, coughing from the smoke and yelling for them to cease fire, they knew something had gone wrong.

Greene ripped off his helmet, eyes streaming from the smoke. He coughed a few more times and then glanced wildly around before realizing that Decker and his men hadn't come out this way.

'Dammit!' he swore, hurling his helmet onto the ground in frustration.

'Sewers!' Albert said in sudden realization. The kitchens in the basement of the Falcon must have had some sort of direct access to the sewage system.

'There!' yelled Alex, pointing to a manhole not too far away from the Maltese Falcon. Without waiting for Greene and his men to respond, Albert, Alex, and Dogmeat bounded over to the sewer entrance.

* * *

><p>Over in their perch, Natalia grabbed the submachine gun she had earlier procured off one of the corpses of her former captors and made for the door.<p>

'Wait!' Tycho called after her.

'We can't let him get away!' she yelled back. 'The next time, _he'll _have the element of surprise!'

'You can't go after Decker like that!' Tycho protested.

'I'm the only one who isn't limping!' she shot back. Then she was out the door.

* * *

><p>Albert knew things had gone to hell when he and Alex slid down the ladder and into the foul-smelling waters below the streets. Albert knew Dogmeat would have been a real asset to have down there in the cramped confines of the sewers, but there wasn't any time to carry the dog down like they had back in Necropolis. They just couldn't afford to let Decker get away. Albert didn't know if Greene had heard him and was sending men after him to back him up. All he knew was that there was no time to lose.<p>

The sounds of fading footsteps splashing noisily in the fetid waters up ahead told them they had not yet lost their quarry. Realizing the danger of rushing blindly after trained killers, but without much other choice, Albert and Alex raced after the leaders of the Hub Underground.

For what seemed like hours but was really only a minute or two, Albert and Alex stumbled through the pitch darkness, guided only by the sounds of footsteps echoing away in the distance. They had covered about a third of a mile when the splashes up ahead suddenly stopped. They heard the last of the echoes, and then silence. Albert and Alex slowed their pace. The sudden silence either meant that Decker and his men had found their exit, or they realized they were being followed and had decided to set an ambush.

Their movement forward slowed to a crawl. Albert, armed with Tycho's combat shotgun, felt his palms grow damp with perspiration and the grip on his weapon slip ever so slightly.

'This is a bad idea,' Alex whispered as softly as he could manage.

They went on for another minute until Albert was forced to concur with Alex's statement. To move on blindly really _was _suicide. 'Flare,' Albert eventually brought himself to whisper. 'On three.'

There was a bit of shuffling as Alex searched for the flare that he kept attached to his utility belt. 'Got it,' he said.

'One,' Albert counted, loud enough only for Alex to hear. 'Two. Three.'

Alex twisted the top of the flare and red sparks suddenly flooded the tunnel with a blinding and somewhat hellish glare.

Albert, who had been a few steps ahead, was suddenly met with the worrying and very shocking sight of one of Decker's men almost directly in front of him, a wicked looking knife in his hand. Albert instinctively pulled the trigger of the shotgun. The thug had snuck so close to him that the blast tore a hole into his midsection and out the other side.

As the man went down into the sludge of the sewers, Albert saw the three other men not far behind him. He recognized Decker and Kane instantly. The last one was the seven-foot tall brute with the sledgehammer. Fortunately, none of them were carrying firearms, at least not in their hands. But Decker had a bandoleer of throwing knives around his chest.

With the fluid motions of a professional, Decker pulled one of the knives from its sheath and hurled it at Albert. Only Albert's quick-thinking decision to dodge rather than shoot spared him a knife in his neck. Even before the knife had left Decker's hand, Albert was forcing his body into movement. Decker corrected his aim but couldn't change the trajectory by much. The knife cut its way harmlessly through the air, clanged noisily against the tunnel wall, and clattered to the floor.

Although it had saved his life, Albert's evasive maneuver had also cost him his balance, leaving Alex with the only weapon ready to fire. Alex fired off three shots from his Desert Eagle but the distance was too far and he hadn't quite gotten used to the recoil of the heavy handgun. All the shots went wide. Nevertheless, the gunfire discouraged Kane or the sledgehammer-toting giant from reaching for their own side-arms. The three men turned and fled back into the darkness of the tunnels ahead.

* * *

><p>Despite losing one man, Decker felt confident they would escape. They had plenty of safe houses in Old Town. All they needed to do was outrun Albert and Alex. Alex was a terrible shot. Or, at least, he was an inexperienced shot. It didn't mean he couldn't get lucky if they tried to make a stand – and in a cramped place like the sewer tunnel, that was not that big of an improbability – but at least Decker knew that if they kept moving, the chances of him actually hitting them were minimal. Albert was a more of a threat, especially with the firepower he had brought along with him. But Decker and his men had the advantage of knowing the tunnels. They had already memorized their routes time and time again in the event that Greene did in fact decide to storm their lodgings one day. Albert and Alex had no such experience with the topography. And so, while Albert recovered from his fall, Decker and his two closest aides left their pursuers far behind them.<p>

All was going well until they reached the next turning up ahead. This was the passageway that would take them near an old pawn shop where some of Decker's men were stationed who could hide them from Greene's men, at least until they had the time to re-establish themselves. Kane, who had been in the lead, turned the corner and had only made it five strides down the new passageway when another flare burst into life ahead of him. In the glare, he spotted the battered frame of the woman whose injuries he had personally inflicted as punishment for the three men she had killed just prior to her capture.

There was a glint of cold satisfaction in her eyes that Kane noticed moments before also observing the submachine gun in her hands. Then a dozen bullets ripped into his chest and Kane fell.

Natalia had only looked once at the sewer maps that Loxley's thieves had shown her prior to her venture into Hightower's mansion all those weeks ago. But once had been enough. That single glance had given her a visual mental map that she had just relied upon cut off Decker and his men in their flight.

Staring down at the Kane's body to make sure he wasn't moving, Natalia walked cautiously towards the bend in the tunnel ahead.

She had been expecting more of Decker's men waiting around the corner. What she hadn't expected was a seven-foot-tall ogre charging around the bend, that enormous sledgehammer of his whizzing through the air at her head.

* * *

><p>Natalia had time either to dodge or shoot. She chose self-preservation.<p>

Ducking, she heard the heavy mallet very audibly cut through the air above her head before its momentum carried it directly into the wall beside her. Even as bits of cement rained down on her, Natalia was already moving. Up came the SMG again, this time at point blank range. Pulling the trigger, Natalia unloaded the rest of the SMG's clip into the man's stomach. At such a close proximity, Natalia was greeted with a shower of blood and guts that splattered from the man's eviscerated torso.

Realizing Decker was still somewhere around, Natalia scrambled frantically for a new magazine for her SMG. But as the seven-foot-tall obstruction fell out of her line of sight, she realized she had run out of time. She spotted the blur that was Decker's throwing arm and knew her gun was useless to her. Almost without thinking, she tossed her own head violently backwards with enough force to knock her off her feet and on her rear end in the process. The whirring blade left Decker's arm, sliced the edge of her neck, and flew off into the darkness.

With no time to recover, Natalia pushed herself away, one hand reaching for the knife in her belt. Decker's hand went for a second throwing knife. This time, sitting on the ground with her legs in front of her, Natalia did not have the luxury of mobility. When the second knife came spinning towards her, she did the only thing she could think of.

The curved blade pierced her open palm, narrowly slipped in between the metacarpals, and ended with the blade sticking out the other side of her hand. Natalia gave a cry of pain as the blade embedded itself in her hand, the handle jutting out of her palm on one side and the blade protruding out the other.

Decker moved swiftly forward, prepared to end the little skirmish with a boot to the head. But a snarl caught his attention. He turned just in time to see, in the dim and wavering glow of the flare, the blurred shape of a hound racing through the dirty sewer waters straight towards him.

* * *

><p>Albert had no idea how Dogmeat had managed to jump down into the sewers after them, nor how the dog had tracked them through the foul-smelling tunnels. But none of that mattered. All that was important was that Dogmeat had once again arrived in the nick of time, bounding past Alex and himself and lunging at Decker before the Underground kingpin could do any further damage to Natalia.<p>

But Decker hadn't climbed to the top of the Underground out of luck. He had the size, strength, and skill to prove it. As Dogmeat leapt towards his neck, Decker twisted his body, hands latching onto the dog's head. Using Dogmeat's own weight against him, Decker threw the dog off to the side. Dogmeat's body hit the far wall and he slid to the ground, stunned.

With the split second of reprieve, Decker's hand went for the last of his throwing knives. But this time, the odds were too much for him. Dogmeat had given Albert just enough time to reach shooting distance. Three blasts from the combat shotgun lit up the tunnels in consecutive flashes. In the first flash, Decker caught a shell in his side, forcefully spinning him around. In the next flash, the second shell went wide. With the third flash, the final 12-gauge round hit Decker in the chest even whilst he was still reeling from the impact of the first round. A bloody red hole opened up in his chest forcing him to take a step backwards. He paused for a moment, as if his body hadn't decided what to do yet, then finally he fell to his knees, his head the last part of his body to splash into the muck.

Smoke drifted upwards from the barrel of the shotgun in Albert's hand. And then it was over.


	20. Chapter 19: The Quest

Hi faithful readers,

I wish I could say I had an awesome kickass chapter for you to read after that long wait, but unfortunately, as I mentioned in my last e-mail, my writing has slowed considerably (even more than I expected). This chapter is kind of an in-between chapter, so there's also not a whole lot going on unfortunately. Next chapter, however, will be entitled 'The Glow'

**Chapter Nineteen: The Quest**

When Albert, Alex, Dogmeat, and their traveling companion, Erwin, finally reached the encampment of the Brotherhood of Steel, both vault dwellers were greeted by a sight that they found rather incongruous with their expectations of the Brotherhood as a technologically advanced and well-armed organization. Even with Erwin's forewarning, both vault dwellers had expected something a little more… sprawling. Instead, what greeted them when they arrived was a small rectangular building, barely big enough to hold anything larger than a single automobile, surrounded by a chain link fence with overlapping coils of barbed wire lining the top.

There were only two indicators that this place belonged to the Brotherhood. The first was a strange-looking standard sticking out of the ground like a flag just outside of the entrance to the compound. The symbol of the Brotherhood of Steel was comprised of metallic blue wings encompassing a circle, in which were positioned three interconnected grey cogs, and a single steel sword both piercing its way up through the circle and wings.

According to Erwin, the gears represented the Brotherhood's engineering knowledge, the sword displayed their will to defend themselves, the wings symbolized the uplifting hope that the acquisition of lost technology represented for humankind's salvation (post-nuclear fallout), and the circle surrounding the cogs signified the fraternal unity of the Brotherhood.

The only other indication of the Brotherhood's presence was the two menacing guards standing by the entrance of the metal hut – a door emblazoned with the very same symbol that was on the standard – and another three patrolling along the edges of the fence. Each guard was dressed in a suit of heavy armor that looked like it might have come out of a science fiction movie. Each suit came with its own advanced-looking helmet that was attached by hinges to the neck of the suit so that the user could have the option of removing the helmet without having to worry about carrying it around. The plain, unpainted, metallic sheen gave the guards an imposing aura, making them seem like post-nuclear counterparts to medieval knights in battle armor. It didn't hurt, that the suits of armor were large enough that they easily added at least a foot to each of the guard's actual height.

In addition to being encased in the imposing and gleaming suits of armor, each guard was also equipped with what could only be a multi-barreled chaingun with the ammunition belt attached to a compartment in the back of the armor, just below what appeared to be a kind of mini, backpack-sized power generator.

Albert was impressed. The weapon had to weight at least thirty pounds, and that was _excluding_ the ammo belt. Albert couldn't imagine carrying a weapon like that in both hands for more than a minute or two. Yet these guys were holding their miniguns in _one hand_ as if it weighed less than a handgun! Those hydraulics built into the powered suits were certainly doing their jobs.

'Five guards to guard a small shack?' Alex joked.

'Like I said,' Erwin reiterated from the conversations they had had during their journey, 'it's bigger than it looks. This is just an elevator. The rest of the base is underground'

'Erwin?' exclaimed the guard who had his helmet off. As they neared, they could see that he was wearing some kind of teal-colored coif over his head, again making him seem even more like some sort of medieval knight, if not for the fact that his armor was way too large in size and that he was carrying a weapon of mass destruction in his hand.

'Cabbot!' Erwin shouted back.

The man named Cabbot gave Erwin a light slap on the back that, amplified in strength by the armor, nearly knocked the smaller man to the ground. While Erwin struggled to regain his balance, Cabbot turned to the control panel by the door.

'I've got our missing initiate here,' the vault dwellers heard him say into the intercom unit. A muffled voice that they couldn't hear from where they stood gave its reply.

'He's brought two guests with him,' said Cabbot.

'They were the—' Erwin began before Cabbot raised a finger, indicating that he shouldn't interrupt.

'Got it,' said Cabbot after receiving further instructions from the intercom voice. 'Rhombus is waiting for you,' he said to Erwin. 'He wants to know more about your two friends. Until then, they'll have to wait outside.'

Erwin gave them an apologetic look as Cabbot keyed in a security code into the control panel. The security door split open revealing what could only be a brightly lit elevator car within. It was the first functioning elevator they had seen outside of the Vault and gave clear verification that the Brotherhood was in fact technologically superior to pretty much all of the wasteland.

Erwin stepped in and the doors hissed close behind him.

'Well, we'll have to wait on our Head Paladin to decide what to do about you,' Cabbot said in as cheery a tone as when he had been speaking with Erwin, 'but there's no reason you can't explain yourselves first. May I ask your business here?'

'Wait… "paladin"?' Alex asked with a barely concealed smirk.

'Those are our soldiers,' Cabbot said good-naturedly, seemingly oblivious to Alex's derision.

'And you're not a… paladin?' asked Alex.

'Well, uh, I'm an initiate,' Cabbot said, none too proudly.

'Like Erwin,' Albert said.

'Sort of,' Cabbot replied. 'Right now, my job is to greet people at the door.'

'Doesn't sound terribly exciting,' Alex commented. 'But if you're job is to greet people, then perhaps you could tell us exactly what the Brotherhood of Steel is.'

Cabbot smiled proudly, happy that he could answer Alex's query. 'The Brotherhood,' he beamed, 'is a collective of men and women who have dedicated their lives to the preservation of technology.'

'Like that armor?' Albert asked.

'This is Powered Combat Infantry Armor model T-51b,' said Cabbot, 'or more commonly known as "power armor".'

'We've been wandering the wastes for weeks now and we've never seen armor like _that _before,' said Albert.

'The members of the Brotherhood are the sole bearers of the power armor in the wastes,' Cabbot said, again with undisguised pride. 'Only the honored, and knights of the highest stature are given the privilege to wear the ultimate armor.'

'Damn,' Alex said, impressed. 'Maybe we should join up,' he suggested to Albert.

'You, uh, haven't answered my question yet,' Cabbot said a little uncomfortably.

Albert explained their task and intention to seek the help of the Brotherhood in addressing the threat of the mutants. By the time he was done, the intercom had beeped again and Cabbot spent the next few minutes providing details about Albert and Alex to the person at the other end of the communications channel. When the conversation was finally over, he turned back to the two vault dwellers with another uncomfortable look on his face.

'Uh, well, I talked to the High Elder, and he said that not just anyone can come in,' Cabbot told them. 'He, um, he said you have to complete a quest first.'

'A quest?' Alex exclaimed in disbelief. 'What? To seek the Holy Grail?'

'You have to go to the ruins of the Ancient Order,' Cabbot continued. 'That's southeast of here. Uh, you've gotta go inside and bring back something that proves that you were there.'

'Certainly _sounds _like a quest for the Holy Grail,' Alex said beneath his breathe to Albert.

'So that's it?' Albert asked. 'Just… go there and get something that proves we were there and then just bring it back here?' said Albert.

'That's what the High Elder said,' Cabbot stated.

'How will you know it's from inside this place?' Albert asked.

'This place is high tech,' Cabbot explained. 'There's things inside like you've never seen before.'

'Where is this place exactly?' Albert asked, bringing up the map on his PIPBoy. Cabbot gave them the exact coordinates. Both Albert and Alex's eyes widened. It was about 350 miles away… in one direction. 'That's a lot time to be wasting going back and forth,' Albert observed.

'Yeah,' Cabbot shrugged. 'But that's what the High Elder said.'

Albert looked up again at Cabbot and the other guard. There was no way in hell he and Alex were going to be able to make it into the Brotherhood's base by being assertive and there seemed little reason to do anything to antagonize these heavily armed guards.

'Oh, uh, it's also radioactive,' Cabbot added with an uncomfortable chuckle.

'How are we supposed to make it in there alive then?' Alex said incredulously.

Cabbot shrugged again. 'Sorry, that's what—'

'The High Elder said. Yes, I know,' Albert said.

Just then the elevator door opened and Erwin reemerged.

'I'm sorry,' Erwin said apologetically. 'I did what I could. I was afraid they'd send you on the famous Glow Quest.'

'Glow?' said Alex. 'They said it was the Ancient Order.'

'Glow, Ancient Order, it's the same thing,' said Erwin. 'It's still not a good place to visit.'

'Glow…' Albert mused, trying to recall where he had last heard that name. 'Isn't it some crater that supposedly glows at night or something?'

'Exaggerations,' Erwin said. 'Most topsiders think it's just a big radioactive hole. Thus the name became the Glow or some even call it the Hot Spot. We in the Brotherhood know the truth, though. According to the ancient writings, this place was the source of all our technology. And chances are there's still plenty left behind.'

'Which I'm guessing has been left untouched all these years due to the radiation?' said Albert. Erwin nodded solemnly. 'This place was directly hit by a nuke during the War, wasn't it?' Albert said with dawning realization. Again Erwin nodded.

'If you don't have Rad-X, you'll be cooked before you even know what hit you,' said Erwin.

'Rad-X?' asked Alex.

'Apparently, back in the day before the War, when people started anticipating nuclear holocaust, the U.S. government commissioned researchers to develop a way to counter or at least delay the harmful effects of radiation.'

'Is that even possible?' Albert said in amazement.

Erwin shrugged. 'It resulted in the manufacture of Rad-X and RadAway. The former are these distinctive red-and-yellow anti-radiation pills that you take before exposure. The latter is a chemical solution that bonds with radiation particles and passes them through your system.'

'This all sounds very sci-fi,' Albert commented.

'So's that laser rifle you carry,' Erwin pointed out.

'Alright then,' Albert said heavily, realizing that their next course of action had effectively been chosen for them. 'How do we get a hold of these drugs?'

'You can't get them in general stores,' said Erwin, 'but I know a guy who knows a guy over in Old Town who can hook you up.'

'That sounds appropriately sketchy,' Alex remarked.

'When you're the only known public dealer this side of the continent, you can get away with it.'

'How do we find this friend of a friend, and is it going to cost us?' asked Albert.

'Not if you buy his merchandise,' said Erwin.

'What does that mean?'

'His name is Jake – runs a weapons dealership in Old Town back in the Hub. Buy enough of his goods and I'm sure he'll be more than happy to give you a reference.'

'We're short enough on cash as it is.'

'Well, in that case, you might be happy to learn that Jake also looks for the odd collector's item. That there rifle of yours might do the trick.' Erwin eyed Albert's laser rifle. 'The microfusion cells it uses must be running low by now. Pretty soon, it'll just be a useless hunk of metal, to you at least. Jake sells some mighty high-end stuff but that weapon's _way_ out of his league. He'll jump on it if you give him the chance. You'll make a mint. Trust me.'

'What about the drugs?'

'If it's the two of you going down into the Ancient Order, I'd say expect to have to have to buy over four grand worth of Rad-X and RadAway.'

'Geez,' Alex swore. 'We're really going in deep this time,' he said to Albert. 'Who would've thought drug dealing would still be such a popular business _after _a nuclear war?'

'Alright,' said Albert, 'tell us how to find Jake.'

* * *

><p>When the two vault dwellers and Dogmeat returned to the Hub on the 2nd of March with the news of the task set before them, Natalia and Tycho, who had been recovering from their wounds beneath the roof and under the protection of a still-grateful Sheriff Greene, both expressed their shock and misgivings.<p>

'That's more than a two-week journey in total,' Natalia estimated. 'That's a lot of time to be wasting.'

'If you have a better idea, I'm open to suggestions,' said Albert.

'Passing by radioactive hotspots is bad enough,' said Tycho, 'but going directly _into _one? You know what we call radiation back out east? The "Phantom Death". You can't see it, you can't hear it, you can't even smell it. But it builds up in your system. You never feel it until it's too late. The more trips you make to hotspots, the more it builds up and it will _never _leave your system. Ever. The Rads just keep building up. I hate to sound hyperbolic, but going into the worst hotspot possible _is_ the epitome of insanity, my friend.'

'We'll be buffed up on Rad-X and we'll keep a supply of RadAway handy just in case,' Alex added.

'What's that?' Natalia asked. Albert and Tycho explained it to her.

'That's literally an elusive magic pill, though,' Tycho pointed out. 'That shit's worth ten times more than the regular dope people take to get high. Fat chance getting your hands on even one pill.'

'We know a guy who knows a guy…' Alex offered mischievously.

'So you're going to be high on drugs…' Natalia concluded cynically. 'Albert, I really don't like this. And Tycho and I still aren't ready for another trial just yet.'

'Well, that's what the two weeks will be for, then,' said Albert. 'By the time we get back, the two of you should have healed up enough to rejoin us.'

'I don't like it,' Natalia repeated.

'It's the only way the Brotherhood's going to grant us entry,' Albert said simply. 'Look, we'll just head over there, pick up the first thing that we think will be of interest to the Brotherhood, then hightail on out of there.'

'What if something goes wrong?' Natalia pushed. 'You'll be hundreds of miles away from help. We won't even know if you're still alive.'

'Then we fix a time,' said Albert. 'If we're not back in three weeks tops, the two of you and Dogmeat will just have to find another way. Convince Butch to do something, or at least help you in some way. Or maybe find some other sympathetic ear.'

Natalia sighed heavily, then looked up at Tycho. Their brief silent communication told Albert they didn't like what he and Alex were about to do, but didn't see any other way around it either. With reluctance, they agreed to the plan.

Natalia's hand was still not yet fully recovered from having a knife stuck into it but she insisted on accompanying them when they visited the drug dealer. Tycho, on the other hand, still had his limp thanks to the bashing he and Natalia had taken at the hands of Kane and his thugs almost two weeks ago. The suspected fractures in his foot were going to take at least two or three more weeks to heal.

'Are you going to be okay?' Natalia asked of him as she prepared to follow the other two men.

'Have you taken a look at where we are?' Tycho joked. 'You'd need a mutant army to break into this police station.'

'That's not what I meant,' said Natalia seriously.

'I know,' Tycho said, more gently this time. Natalia leaned in and planted a kiss on his mouth before heading out with Albert and Alex.

* * *

><p>The vault dwellers' first stop was the store in Old Town that Ian had once pointed out to them. Thanks to the assistance they had provided Justin Greene in taking down Decker and the Underground, the sheriff had been more than willing to cover their board and lodging while they were still in the Hub. But even so, they didn't have sufficient caps-on-hand to buy all the equipment Albert and Alex would need for their journey to the Glow, especially the Rad-X and RadAway. Going back to hiring out their services for odd jobs was one option. But Albert had a better one thanks to Erwin's suggestion.<p>

Finding Jake's place was easy even without Ian around to identify it. The building was unmistakable. Converted from an old mid-sized mall, the place was surrounded by armed guards. Jake himself was attired in metal armor similar in concept, though not design, to Albert's own. Yet none of the high-level security seemed superfluous given the nature of the trade, as the vault dwellers found when they entered to find tables and shelves lined with enough weaponry to arm a small army. Everything from Desert Eagle .44s and Sig-Sauer 14mm Auto Pistols to AK-112 5mm assault rifles and Winchester City-Killer 12-gauge combat shotguns. Even Natalia, who had photographically memorized the gun magazine they had been given the first time they had left the Vault couldn't identify some of the weapon models Jake had on sale.

Perhaps most impressive of all in the man's arsenal was a fancy-looking, well-polished sniper rifle.

'The DKS-501 is a fine long range weapon,' Jake gushed with the practiced air of an experienced salesman when Albert expressed his interest.

'Caliber?' Albert asked.

'It was originally .308, but we rechambered it for the more common .233 round. You can get those at practically any gun shop this side of the old U.S. of A.'

'How much use has it seen?' Albert pushed.

'Well, it's damn near impossible to find a virgin this long after the War.' Alex had to stifle a snicker at Jake's completely indifferent use of the term. 'But we tuned the barrel and, most importantly, check out this trigger…' Jake let Albert try out the unloaded weapon. 'Smooth, huh?' he said with undisguised pride. 'The trigger breaks perfectly now.'

'What's the asking price?' asked Albert.

'Twenty-two hundred.'

Albert whistled. Things here really _were _on the high-end.

'What's this here?' Alex pointed at a strange, bulky, handheld device with an uncalibrated metered gauge on its side.

'That's a Wattz Electronics C-Radz model Geiger Counter,' Jake said. 'Very rare.'

'Sounds useful,' Albert commented.

'No kidding,' Jake agreed. 'Most of the Hubbers don't realize this, but even though it's been eighty years or so since the bombs fell, there's still radiation around. You can't see it, never could, but it's there. Heck, I'm willin' to bet you got some counts on you right now. Everyone that lives in the wastes has a few Rads.'

Jake picked up the weird-looking contraption and showed them how to operate it.

'As long as you keep your Rad count under 100, you should be fine,' he said as he pointed at the gauge on the counter. 'Go above 100 and you're in some trouble. And the worst part is you won't even know you've been sucking up Rads until a few days later. Get over 1000 and you're cooked – unless you get a whole lot of RadAway, that is.'

'Speaking of that…' Albert began.

'I don't carry it,' Jake answered tersely, anticipating his unspoken question. 'Any I find I keep for myself.'

'Do you know anyone who might have more?' Albert added with feigned innocence.

'Wellll… since you did right by me with that energy weapon of yours, I'll do right by you,' said Jake. 'Right up the street here, three blocks down, there's a guy that may be able to help you. His name is Vance.'

'And he deals in anti-radiation drugs?'

'Let's just say drugs are his area of expertise. Just don't ask too many questions of him. Tell him Jacob sent you and he should do you up just fine.'

* * *

><p>They followed Jacob's direction to an old warehouses, entering through a vertical sliding door that rattled so much when it opened that they felt sure the entryway double-functioned as an early warning system. If Greene and his guards ever felt like clearing out the undesirables from Old Town, their entrance into this building would hardly go unnoticed.<p>

In the unlit interior, illuminated only by slivers of sunlight from narrow windows at top of the walls, they were met by a number of stern-faced guards armed with assault rifles who kept their eyes on them even after Albert had slipped Jacob's name to their leader. Giving a serious nod, the chief guard led them to the back of the warehouse where they met Vance and a whole other entourage of armed guards gathered near a large backroom. Through the open doorway, the vault dwellers could see at least two dozen mattresses, more than half of which were occupied by people in various states of drug-induced incapacitation.

Just as Albert was about to speak to Vance, he heard the uneven sound of footsteps racing across the grounds. The guards were instantly alerted to the newcomer – a bedraggled man with extremely thinning hair dressed in mostly worn clothes, his bare feet slapping hard and fast on the cement floor. The guard who had let him in walked slowly behind, uninterested in catching up. The armed men standing guard near Vance had their fingers in their trigger guards but kept their weapons lowered. This newcomer was apparently known to them.

'Vance, you gotta help me,' the man pleaded. Albert noticed the man's clasped hands were shaking visibly. The man was clearly extremely agitated. 'My place got burgled,' he explained. 'They took it all. All the pills. You gotta help me. It's been three days already. I can't… I can't think straight anymore.'

Vance walked over and, placing what only seemed like a comforting arm around the other man's shoulders, brought the man to his feet.

'Now, Lemmy,' he said in a calming tone. 'You know the rules. If I start easing up on one person, _everyone's _going to try to take advantage of me. And if I did _that_, I'd be out of business! You wouldn't want that, now would you, Lemmy?'

'N-no,' Lemmy said pathetically, 'but I… I need it, Vance. I'll do anything.'

'Anything?' Vance said, setting the bait.

'Anything,' Lemmy reaffirmed more emphatically now that he could see a glimmer of hope.

'Well, in that case, I may have something that I could use your help with.'

As he walked Lemmy over to a private corner, Vance glanced over at the vault dwellers, indicating with a gesture of his hand that his conversation wouldn't take long.

While the vault dwellers waited awkwardly amidst Vance's armed guards, the drug dealer traded hushed words with the addict. At the end of the uncomfortably protracted talk, Vance slipped a small orange and green box of pills into the hands of a still jittery but very grateful Lemmy.

With his fix obtained, Lemmy beat a hasty retreat from the warehouse. None of the vault dwellers knew what he had agreed to do for Vance, but chances were it wasn't good.

Vance walked back over to them and smiled apologetically.

'You know how these people are,' he said. 'Now, what can I do for you?'

'Jacob tells me you've got what I need,' Albert said, trying hard to ignore the somewhat disturbing scene of junkies getting their fix through the open doorway into the backroom nearby.

'And what would that be, exactly?' said Vance expectantly.

'Anti-radiation supplies. Enough to last two people two days.'

'Ah, business, then,' Vance gave a single nod. Leading them past the room of recreational drug users, he brought them to a nondescript metal cupboard from which he produced a box of the red-and-yellow Rad-X pills and two IV bags of RadAway. Together, the cost came up to 5800 caps – a price Albert wasn't willing to haggle over considering the kind of person he was negotiating with. The costs completely cleaned out everything the vault dwellers had earned from the laser rifle and then some, but it was an investment they had little choice but to make.

Having got what they came for, they beat a hasty retreat from the storefront despite Vance's additional offers to sell them high end performance-related drugs in addition to their anti-radiation supplies.

'Not feeling the urge to clear out the filth of post-nuclear society this time?' Alex offered half-jokingly as they retraced their steps to the police station. Albert was silent.

'Did we… Are we doing the right thing?' Natalia chimed in.

'We did what we had to do,' Albert responded.

'This Vance character…' Natalia continued. 'He _could_ well be the next Decker if nothing's done about him, and we… just donated a substantial amount to his campaign fund.'

'Look at it this way,' said Albert. 'Vance is the only one we know of with access to enough Rad-X and RadAway to keep us alive and radiation-free in our little Glow quest. If we don't buy from him, we're not going to survive a day in the Glow. If we don't manage that, there's no way the Brotherhood of Steel will let us in. If we can't get in, we can't get any further in addressing the super mutant issue. And if the super mutants and their raids continue growing more numerous and frequent, who's to say the Hub won't be spared a direct attack at some point? What I'm saying is this: without us making this deal with Vance here, there may not be a Hub left for people to fight over.'

'Aren't you being a little dramatic?' Natalia asked cynically.

'Am I?' Albert challenged. 'Name me one person we've met who both knows about the mutants _and_ is doing something about it. Even Butch isn't budging. If no one wants to address this issue, it falls to us.'

'Maybe we don't need even to do anything,' Alex offered. 'I mean, these Brotherhood guys seem like they have the guns _and _the knowledge of these super mutants already. They've probably been thinking about the mutants long before we did. Maybe they'll do just fine without us.'

'_Or_ maybe they don't even know there's an army being created, mutant by mutant, with every person captured by their scavenger teams,' Albert retorted. If these mutants _are _growing at far faster rates than what you might expect from natural birth, then at some point, all the weapons in the world aren't going to help.'

'We should've just told Erwin to pass his boss a message,' Alex sighed.

'I doubt it would have helped,' said Albert. 'They don't trust us enough to even grant us an audience. Why would they believe a word we say?'

'So the end justifies the means, then…' Natalia said stonily.

'No, it doesn't,' Albert replied. 'But if I have to choose between stopping a drug dealer from coming into power and working towards the safety of my vault, my home, and my family, I can tell you that the decision's pretty simple to me.'

'Alright then,' Alex said acquiescently. 'Let's go find that Holy Grail.'


	21. Chapter 20: The Glow

Finally. I've been working on this chapter for several months, it seems, and not necessarily because it necessarily required a whole lot of effort but because I've had a major project in my real work life that was only recent finished. So the potential bad news is this chapter was written over such a long time frame that the narrative thread binding everything together may not be quite as strong (although I'll let you judge that for yourself). The good news is that, hopefully, I should now be able to speed up the writing process back to the very-busy-but-not-crazily-busy status.

**Chapter Twenty: The Glow**

Fully aware of the long journey ahead of them, Albert and Alex left the Hub the next morning at a brisk pace that they were determined to maintain for the duration of the trip. Devoting their efforts to covering as much ground as possible per day, they spoke little during the walks, sparing themselves time for conversation only at the end of each day when they finally made camp.

The first few days were uneventful and dull to say the least. But as they drew closer to the Glow over the next few days, the devastation wrought by a direct nuclear strike became increasingly apparent. Although there were no buildings and few roads in the area, it soon became clear that there was also no vegetation. Any dead tree or plant standing above a foot in height had been knocked over by the blast – the blast of a nuclear explosion whose very epicenter they were heading directly toward. As they neared, actual visible evidence of the destruction became sparser and sparser and it was only because of the _lack _of debris – the complete obliteration of anything in the explosion's path – that they came to realize just how much damage had been inflicted on the local flora by the bomb.

'The first thing bomb victims experience is the intense flux of photons from the blast, which releases seventy to eighty percent of the bomb's energy,' Albert explained to Alex as they made their way closer and closer to ground zero. 'The effects go up to third degree thermal burns – not a pretty sight. Virtually all the initial deaths are due to this first wave. Then comes the supersonic blast front. You see it before you hear it. Anything in the path of the pressure front gets blown away. It's followed closely by the overpressure phase – like being several hundred to several thousand feet underwater. That gradually dies off, but just to give way to a negative overpressure phase, with a reversed blast wind due to air rushing back to fill the void left by the explosion. The air gradually returns to normal atmospheric pressure, but at this stage, fires caused by electrical destruction and ignited debris turn the place into one big conflagration. And all that's just in the short run. Later on come the middle term effects like keloid formation and retinal blastoma. Genetic or hereditary damage appear up to forty years after the initial irradiation.'

'Well, that sounds like a lot of fun,' Alex commented. 'I sure hope those anti-rad pills do what they're supposed to. Last thing I need is a second head sprouting up out of my back.'

Although the surroundings became increasingly barren and windswept as they neared their goal, neither one of them could stop gaping when they finally reached the larger crater where the nuclear bomb had once exploded. Cabbot had provided them precise coordinates to locate the main entrance to the facility but there really was no need to look for it. The enormous hole provided all the access they needed.

'What the hell…' Alex swore as his gaze followed the lit flare that he dropped down the crater. 'That's a lot of holes,' he said as the flare fell through three floors before finally hitting the bottom. The rising sun cast enough of its illumination to light up parts of the first subterranean level but aside from the flare's light, the two levels below it were engulfed in pitch darkness.

'I'm actually amazed it's only three,' said Albert peering down through the crater hole. 'This place must have been seriously reinforced to survive a direct hit. Whatever extra protection was covering this installation sure as hell ain't here anymore.' He took out the Geiger counter they had bought from Jake. The needle on the gauge went crazy the moment he turned the machine on. 'Well… we're still alive and not puking our guts out, so the meds _must _be working,' he said as he returned the counter to his pack.

Finding the remnants of an old, bent, half-destroyed beam that stuck out several feet into the gaping space over the crater hole, Alex got the rope they had purchased for just this anticipated purpose and tied a loop around the beam. It was perhaps not surprising to see other older, decaying lengths of rope affixed to the same beam – others had obviously tried to plumb the depths of the Ancient Order before them. It did, however, suggest that, judging by the number of ropes left hanging from the beam, many had gone down but had not returned.

With that unsettling knowledge, they began the slow descent. Albert went first, then Alex lowered both packs on a separate coil of rope before coming down himself.

The whole process took the most part of twenty minutes and they decided to take a short breather before pressing on. Finding a nearby side room connected to the corridor where their descent had landed them, they stowed their packs, taking with them only their weapons (Alex's Desert Eagle and Tycho's City-Killer), their anti-radiation and other medical supplies, and food and water to last them a day of exploration. After that, they would have to leave in order to get as far away from the radioactive hole as possible before their meds ran out. Even with that in mind, neither one of them wanted the exploration to take more than a few hours at most. Besides, they didn't have that many flares to last them through a thorough exploration of all of the lower floors anyway.

On the first lower ground floor, much of the original architecture remained intact, except for the crater holes in the floors and the parts of the walls that had suffered the brunt of the explosion. Amazingly, thanks in part to the reinforcement of the walls and ceilings, most of the equipment in the offices sealed behind their equally sturdy, albeit rusted, doors, had been left relatively undamaged. Except for the whistling of the occasional gust of wind that found its way down through the large crater hole above them and the heavily muted sounds of their boots on dusty metal floors, all was silent. The vertical sliding doors that led into the adjacent offices themselves were pressure operated, much like in Vault-13. But without power, the control panel beside each door was useless. Instead, Albert and Alex had to resort to brute strength to manually slide each of the heavy doors upwards into its recess at the top of the doorframe.

There were plenty of things that had been reduced to ashes in the blast. Anything that had been made of glass, reinforced or not, had shattered or been reduced to slag. As for the piles of mostly-incinerated corpses, most of their ashes had drifted away thanks to those shifting winds that managed to find their way down through the crater. Of those corpses that had somehow been spared incineration, possibly because they had been sheltered by pieces of their surroundings, most had been cleaned down to the bones over the course of decades by the winds.

Unfortunately for the two vault dwellers, this floor seemed to have been devoted to administrative purposes, and, despite moving from office to office, down the long corridor where they had first touched down, Albert and Alex found nothing more technologically advanced than what they could get back at Vault-13.

After searching through four empty offices, they found themselves at the edge of the crater. The hole was significantly smaller than the one above their heads through which they had descended but was, nevertheless, still too large to jump. Through this second hole they could still see the first flare burning steadily down below. Across the gap to the north, east, and southeast, they could see other rooms. Hoping that they would be able to find another way to get to those rooms, the two vault dwellers travelled on.

Eventually, after another three offices, they reached the end of the hallway to find themselves in a wider elevator lobby. A single corridor ending at a set of wide double doors led to the rest of the compound on this level while two elevators with large yellow bands painted across their doorframes provided what seemed to be the only way to the lower floors.

'No stairs?' Alex commented. 'What happens in an emergency?'

'Maybe those elevators were built to withstand anything,' said Albert. 'This _is _a top-of the-line research facility after all.'

'Withstand anything? Like what? A nuclear blast?' Alex said cynically.

'Wait, there's something… I think the elevators still have power.' Albert edged closer to the doors, noticing, as he neared, that each door had a faint, glimmering, yellow field of some sort, as if the doorframe was somehow projecting a barely visible, translucent sheet in front of the door.

Picking up a loose piece of debris from the floor that had crumbled off a nearby wall, Albert tossed the rock at the field. The rock struck the field and then, very abruptly, became a deadly projectile, bouncing backwards through the space between the two men and traveling almost a quarter of the way down the corridor from which they had come before hitting the ground and sliding several more feet.

'Holy shit!' Alex laughed in amazement. 'Just a few inches off and one of us might have had a really bad day.'

'I guess we're not going down _this _way,' said Albert.

They took the one remaining corridor and set of doors they had not yet been through and ended up in a large meeting room of some kind with another set of doors leading out through the opposite end. Although smaller than the one above their heads, the crater on this level that they had passed earlier was large enough that even this room was connected to it. Walking over to the hole, they could see across the gap not only the various other rooms to the north and east but also the first corridor to the west that they had passed through earlier to get to the elevator lobby.

Alex was about to suggest descending through the hole instead of worrying about the shielded elevator when he noticed what appeared in the gloom to be red lights coming from a computer console of some sort in the furthest room across the gap.

'Why would the whole place have gone dark except for _one _computer terminal?' he voiced aloud.

'It could be on backup power. The same power running the elevators,' Albert suggested as he led the way through the other door in the room, hoping to find a way to reach the computer terminal.

'That means it's important,' said Alex.

The doorway brought them into another corridor that took them past even more empty offices. The corridor eventually split into three other directions. They picked the one that was in the direction of the computer terminal and followed it.

'So, uh, Albert,' Alex said not a little awkwardly as they walked along in silence.

'What is it?'

'I've been meaning to ask you something.'

'Picked a hell of a time. What about all those days we spent trekking here?'

'I was just… I was thinking. I wasn't ready then.'

'Alright then. What was it you wanted to ask?'

'It's about… it's about Pat. Are you two… were you two… getting close?' Alex's voice sounded strained and Albert knew the younger man was fully aware of just how awkward he was making things. Yet Albert also could understand why Alex was asking. That day when the group had departed from Vault-13, Pat had come all the way up specifically to bid him farewell. Alex couldn't have helped but see it. Still, Albert could barely resist the urge to sigh. The problem was: he didn't really truly know the answer to Alex's question. Yes, he felt they _had _gotten closer after that long conversation but what did that actually mean? Closer to what? Albert had no clue.

'We talked a lot the previous night, mostly about the outside world,' he said. 'She helped me get my head on straight. After all that time in the wasteland, I had…' Albert paused. Now that Alex had brought it up again, Albert was reminded just how pointless that conversation now seemed. All that opening up and thinking he could go back to the way things had been before that first fateful day when he, Natalia, and Stone had left the Vault… and now here he was, back in the wasteland, prepared to do even worse things than before to get the job done. He glanced back at Alex to see an uncomfortable look on the young man's face and realized none of those things were things Alex needed or wanted to hear. 'She's a good and dear friend to me,' he said instead. 'But we didn't go beyond that, nor do I think either of us had any intentions to do so.'

'Okay, so… if we ever get back to the Vault again… you won't mind if I… ask her out, then?'

'What ever happened to finding someone on the surface?'

'I know. I just… all that walking over the past week got me thinking. Maybe I just never stood a chance because I was such a spineless pu—'

'Go for it,' said Albert reassuringly, stopping Alex in mid-expletive. 'I can't speak for her, but if we do both find our way back to the Vault after all this craziness, I will be more than happy if things work out between the two of you.' Albert felt like he was eighteen again, having a conversation he never thought he would ever have again. Yet he couldn't tell if he felt weird and mildly uncomfortable talking to Alex about it because of that or because of some other reason he couldn't quite place his finger on.

'You mean that?' Alex asked.

'What? About—'

'About giving me your blessing?'

'Blessing?' Albert laughed. 'I'm not her father, Alex. Geez. She's probably only four or five years younger than I am. But if there _is_ anyone's blessing you shouldbe looking for, it's her's, not mine.'

'Okay. Good,' Alex said with a bit more relief in his voice. 'I just didn't want to accidentally step on anyone's toes.'

'Alex,' Albert said. 'Don't worry about it. Seriously. You just find that courage to talk to her and then see where the cards fall. I'm too old for this shit anyway.' That answer seemed to appease Alex. 'Oh look, we're here,' said Albert, realizing they had come to the end of the corridor. He pointed at the door ahead.

This room had more machinery than the other offices they had already explored. Judging by the number of thick power cables and pipes, the room had once been dedicated to the complex's utilities – water and power. Yet now only the single computer terminal in the corner of the room seemed to be operational after all those years. Even then, by the looks of it, it was barely functioning. The red lights were dim and the monitor was in a state of deep hibernation.

As Alex approached the computer to see if he could get it up and running again, he tripped over something heavy and metallic. Immediately pulling back, he drew his Desert Eagle and aimed the weapon at what appeared to be a large metal foot sticking out from behind the terminal.

'I don't believe it. It's one of the Brotherhood,' he gasped as Albert approached with the flare to illuminate the corpse. The body was in a slouched sitting position, its back resting against the wall, its feet protruding out by the side of the computer terminal. Unlike all the other corpses they had come across that had mostly been reduced to ashes, the fallen armored man still had his entire suit intact except for two holes burnt into the midsection.

'See if you can get the computer working,' said Albert. 'I'll search the body.'

Alex approached the computer terminal, instantly heartened by the fact that it seemed to be a model similar to the Vault-13 computers. Without much difficulty, he activated the computer screen and began hammering in a series of commands.

'Well, the good news is the primary power's offline,' he told Albert, who was still trying to determine where the powered armor's pockets or their equivalents were located and how to open them. 'Only the bare minimum of systems are being operated by emergency power right now. Like this computer.'

'Why is that good news?' Albert asked.

'It means either someone shut the power down or emergency protocols did. That means it might be possible to restore power if I can just reinitialize it.'

'Sounds good. Do it,' said Albert.

Alex entered in a few more commands and waited until an error message began blinking on the screen, indicating that the remote primary system initialization had failed.

Albert heard the series of bleeps the computer made to accompany its error messages. 'That doesn't sound good,' he commented.

Alex typed in a few more commands to get a diagnosis of the error. The screen output read:

**Failure: **

**Generator Level 6**

**0 Feed Return: Inoperable**

**Service Needed**

'The system link to the main generators on the sixth floor isn't working,' Alex concluded. 'If we can find our way to the local terminal or terminals monitoring power output, we _might_ just be able to get power back to this facility. That should save us our flares – give us more time to explore. Did you find anything on your end?'

'I did,' said Albert, rising to his feet. In his hands he held two objects. They both looked red in the glare of their flares but one was obviously a holodisk. The other was some kind of electronic device that had a plug that could fit into one of the PIPBoy's side ports.

'Was that thing _made _for a PIPBoy?' Alex asked in wonderment.

Albert shook his head. 'I think it's universal and standardized. This Brotherhood guy had a built-in port on his wrist where this thing was attached.'

'Any idea what it does?'

'Let's find out.'

Albert fit the device to the port on his PIPBoy. It fit nicely and snugly as an add-on. Whoever had designed it had made sure it would look aesthetically acceptable and feel functional when attached to a variety of different electronic devices. Albert flipped a switch and was greeted by a simple flashing dot in the center with what looked like sonar waves rippling out from it.

'If I had to guess, I'd say that's a radar of some sort,' Alex commented.

'A motion sensor, to be precise,' Albert realized, as the slight movements Alex had made were suddenly reflected on the motion sensor's green screen.

'Too awesome,' Alex breathed excitedly, feeling like a techno-geek. 'So what's in the holodisk?'

'Something valuable to the Brotherhood, maybe,' said Albert, plugging the holodisk into his PIPBoy and transferring the file. It was an audio diary. Albert hit the replay. As they listened in the silence of the abandoned facility, what started out as interest and curiosity gradually gave way to trepidation and then, finally, dread.

'**Capt. Maxson was right,**' the audio log started.

**This place is death. I'm starting this log so that if we don't make it back, someone, some day, might find out what happened to us.**

**We made it to West Tek Research Facility after 20 days of hell. But that was the easy part. The radiation levels began to shoot up as soon as we could see the giant crater. We checked our supplies and figured with our armor and our anti-rad supplies we'd be fine for a least a day of exploring. We felt it was a calculated risk, but the technology we had the potential of recovering was worth it.**

**We climbed down the crater to the first level and everything seemed to be according to plan. The power was off, so we didn't need to circumvent the security. Or so we thought. There wasn't much of value on this level, so we pushed on. We hotwired the controls to elevators that, amazingly, were still operating on some backup power source. That gave us access to the lower floors.**

**The second level was more of the same as the first.**

**When Jensen dropped to the third level… that was when all hell broke loose. The security sensors had been burnt out on the first two levels, but not on the third. Jensen was cut to ribbons before he knew what had happened. We'd never seen weapons cut through power armor like that. Men started dropping right and left, and the ones who were still alive lost it. I tried to regroup, but only Soto and Camarillo made it back up here to the first level with me.**

**The fact that I can smell Soto's burning flesh where his arm was taken off means that my power armor is no longer air tight, so I'm sucking up a lot more rads than I had planned on. I'm leaking hydraulics at an alarming rate. We need to get far enough away from this place before my armor dies.**

**Camarillo seemed fine physically, but he wandered off about an hour ago, mumbling something about Gehenna. That bastard has all the anti-rad.**

**That leaves Soto and myself. We can't make it far enough away from here without the anti-rads, so I've got to try to find Camarillo before it's too late.**

**Sergeant D. Allen, United States Armed Forces.**

'United States Armed Forces?' Alex said in amazement. 'These Brotherhood guys… they're descended from the U.S. military?'

'The log's dated 7-13-2134. Sixty-seven years after the bombs,' Albert observed.

'Twenty-eight years before today,' Alex extrapolated. 'You think those defense systems are still online after eighty-five years?'

Both men walked to the edge of the room where the walls had been obliterated by the nuclear explosion. Staring down into the crater, they saw the last traces of the flare they had tossed down half an hour or so ago. They couldn't detect any sign of movement.

'Well, this is probably something the Brotherhood will want to see,' said Albert, waving the holodisk in the air before slipping it into one of the compartments of his utility belt. 'We can probably head back…'

'We really should,' Alex confirmed. 'If those defense systems are still online, there's no way we'll get through where U.S. soldiers in power armor failed.'

'Yeah, you're probably right,' said Albert. 'We _should _go…'

'But… we're not going to…' Alex said, picking up on the tone in Albert's voice.

Albert triumphantly pulled out his last find from the dead soldier's belt compartment. It was a yellow access card-key.

'If this place really is a research facility,' said Albert. 'I want to know what they were doing here as much as you do. I'm guessing this card should grant us access to the elevator we passed earlier. Hopefully, if it works, we won't have problems with base security.'

'What makes you so sure the card will spare us the same fate?' Alex asked.

'I don't,' Albert replied, 'but this guy here wasn't killed at this spot. Look at how he's positioned. It was either the radiation or his wounds that killed him. I think that means he probably got shot along with his buddies back down on the third floor, somehow managed to find the yellow access card down there, then made it back into the elevator, using the key card this time so the sentry robots wouldn't pursue him, and came back up to the first floor.'

'Hell of a presumption to make,' Alex said. 'But I'm game.'

* * *

><p>The two men retraced their steps to the elevator, found the card reader beside the door, and swiped the access card through it. To their delight, the digital readout above the card reader blinked on and the words 'Authorization granted. Now disarming electric field,' were followed by the dissipation of the shimmering yellow field in front of the door. Albert slowly passed his hand through where the field had once been, and, receiving no lethal electric shock, pushed the button to call the elevator. To both their delights, they were greeted by the sound of old and aged machinery grinding to life after what was probably at least twenty-eight years of silence.<p>

When the elevator arrived, they entered to find that it only went down to the third floor.

'Only three floors in the entire complex?' said Alex. 'That sounds unlikely.'

'There may be other elevators on the third floor to access other levels,' Alex offered as they descended.

'Yeah…' Albert said without much conviction in his voice.

'So… if the defense systems activate…'

'We hightail back to the elevator and don't look back,' said Albert. 'We'll go as far as safety permits.'

When the elevator doors opened, the two vault dwellers were greeted by the aftermath of an old warzone. Four human corpses in power armor lay in various locations around the lobby. Two had been armed with chainguns. The other had a combat shotgun similar to the one Albert carried. Also scattered around the place were what could only be sentry robots, five in total.

'Wellll, I guess we found what killed the soldiers,' said Alex.

The robots came in two types. The first was a strange robot with a dome-shaped head, sensors set in the middle of the dome like eyes, and two flexible arms attached to the main frame that each ended in three-pronged electromagnetic pincers. The robot was connected to a fixed mount with a steel tracked chassis like the threads of a bulldozer or tank. Lying next to or nearby most of the fallen robots of this particular make were strange, futuristic looking pistols.

Alex approached one of the pistols.

'You think this is the weapon that sergeant was talking about that could cut through power armor?' he asked, picking up the weapon. Aiming it at one of the armored corpse's foot, Alex pulled the trigger.

The room flashed green for the briefest of moments as a luminescent bolt burst from the gun's mouth. It struck the armored foot and, to both Albert and Alex's surprise, burnt a hole right through it.

'Whoa…' Alex breathed. 'I'm keeping this.'

'I wouldn't,' Albert advised. 'It's probably swimming in rads.'

'You took the motion detector and the holodisk,' Alex protested.

'They were sealed in the guy's suit. This thing's been exposed to radioactive dust in the air for decades. It'll be virtually impossible to decontaminate once we leave this place.'

Reluctantly, Alex returned the weapon to the floor and proceeded to examine the second type of robot. This one was even stranger in appearance. Compared to the first type that, if it had stood upright, would have reached about four feet in height, this second type stood only a foot-and-a-half above the ground. Its main body resembled a headlamp with a metal fin atop it where the robot's sensors were located. And instead of rotating caterpillar threads, the main body was affixed to an extended metal 'arm' below it that was ended in an electric prod of some sort. Without any wheels or threads, Alex and Albert couldn't figure out how it would have moved from place to place, short of hopping around on its extended arm or hovering.

'Not all of these robots are physically damaged,' Albert observed, noticing that while many had multiple bullet holes in their metal frames, likely from the human soldiers' more conventional weapons, some of the robots seemed untouched, in outward appearance except that they had somehow become deactivated and just fallen over for some reason.

'So I guess that means their sensors are either dead, that access card of ours worked, or, more likely, they just ran out of power,' Alex said.

'Judging by their presence here in the same room as the soldiers, it probably wasn't a long-term process. More likely someone somewhere found a way to cut power or networking directly to them.

The two of them left the fallen robots and power armored soldiers behind them and proceeded to explore the rest of the level. This lobby was much more open than the one two levels above. Three corridors led away from the lobby in different directions.

Picking the one with the most fallen robots littering the walkway, they began retracing the steps of some of the soldiers who had managed to escape the lobby and fled down the corridor. If these soldiers had in fact come from the Brotherhood or at least had been associated with them, doubtless the Brotherhood would want to know what had become of them.

As they moved deeper into the complex, it soon became clear that this floor was where actual research work was conducted. Many of the rooms they passed were clearly laboratories of some sort judging by the kind of equipment and infrastructure that was in place.

The further they got following the dissipating trail of fallen robots and the odd soldier corpse, the more they also realized that, judging by the positions of the bodies, those soldiers who had fallen here had done so retreating from the pursuit of the sentry robots behind them. By all appearances then, the soldiers had likely reached the third floor, as Sergeant Allen had said, fallen under immediate attack by the sentry robots, then retreated further into the facility, at least for those who had survived the first attack.

Eventually, Albert and Alex reached a door with a large hole blasted through it, big enough to fit a soldier in power armor. Stepping through, they found themselves at the other corner of the compound at yet another elevator lobby. There was only one soldier here, collapsed right in front of the elevator door. Three burn holes in the back of his armor and the presence of another nearby sentry robot on threads told them that the soldier had likely fled this far only to be pursued and shot in the back while trying to reach the next elevator door. This particular door, Albert and Alex noted, had red bands along its frame and a moving red field barring entry.

Fortunately for them, the very red access card they sought was lying just two inches from the soldier's armor-clad fingers. The soldier, it seemed, had been just seconds away from making it to the elevator when the sentry robot had gunned him down. And then, like the majority of the other robots they had passed, it had simply ceased functioning and collapsed where it had stood.

Where the soldier had found the red card was an interesting question but unimportant one. Maybe he had found it in a drawer in one of the other rooms or perhaps on the remains of the body of one of the facility staff on this floor. Whatever the real reason, the important thing was that Albert and Alex now had safe passage to the soldier's objective. Regardless of whether the soldier had simply been trying to find a safe refuge or had actually been looking to plumb the depths of the other floors, both Albert and Alex felt the gnawing and driving urge to find out for themselves what his intended destination had actually been.

Albert swiped the card through the reader, waited for the electrified field to dissipate, then entered the elevator cart with Alex. Inside they discovered, to their surprise, that this particular elevator only serviced the third, fourth, and sixth floor.

'For a bunch of scientists, they sure didn't do very well in math,' Alex joked.

'More likely it's an even more restricted level that requires a different color-coded access card and a different elevator,' said Albert.

'Wonderful,' Alex groaned. 'I don't suppose you think we'll find another soldier on the lower levels who was kind enough to find the next card for us, do you?'

Albert checked the time on his PIPBoy. 'Let's just see what we can find on the fourth and sixth floors first,' he said.

Like on the third floor, the elevator lobby on the fourth was linked to the rest of the rooms on this level by three corridors. Only this time, there were no more armored human corpses. There were plenty of dead staff members, their bodies long having been reduced to skeletons, and there were also plenty of sentry robots. Unlike on the third floor, the robots on this floor hadn't been activated at all, and all still stood in their assigned sentry points at wide but regular intervals along the walls of the corridors. Whether by the authorization granted by their use of the red access card or because of power shortages, none of the robots responded to their presence or gave an indication that they were still active in any way.

As for the rooms on this level, there were still many offices and labs, but there were also many server and computer rooms filled with computers that were even more advanced looking than the ones in Vault-13. Their most disturbing finding, however, came while they were in one of the labs with an observation window looking into a larger room dedicated for scientific experimentation. In this room, Albert and Alex could see suspension tanks of some sort, arranged at regular intervals along all the walls, used for some medical or experimental purpose unknown to them. Each of these tall, cylindrical tanks was large enough to contain a human or even a larger sized body. Connected to these tanks were pipes that had probably once been used to fill the tanks with a bath of some kind of chemical solution or gas. For many of them, the thick, green-tinted Plexiglas that comprised the majority of each tank's frame had shattered long ago. Although the nuclear blast itself hadn't made it this far down, the force the explosion had probably caused shockwaves strong enough to break reinforced glass.

Albert and Alex tried to find any documentation they could on the kind of research that had been going on here but all the data must have been stored electronically or elsewhere, for they could find no sign of hardcopies anywhere. Unfortunately, the emergency power in the complex didn't extend to these computers and they had no way of accessing the files.

The two vault dwellers were about to give up their search, having explored virtually every lab on the floor and finding similar results, when they finally arrived at a room different from any other. This high-ceilinged, mostly empty room was incredibly large, both horizontally but vertically. Along the sides of the room were large black cables or secondary computer systems. But right in the middle of the room, occupying a space of what was perhaps almost 150 square feet, was the largest computer the two of them had ever seen. Nowhere in Vault-13 was there any computer system that was even a quarter of its size.

The computer was comprised of an enormous tower chassis twelve feet in height that housed the main CPU. The 'monitor' itself, if it could be called that, was a forty-two inch screen set into a gigantic horizontal cylindrical frame that connected to the side of the CPU.

Mouths gaping, the two vault dwellers approached the towering computer in awe. To their great surprise, as they neared, the large computer monitor blinked to life and they were greeted by a horizontal blue line that stretched across the monitor's length. The sudden bloom of bluish light, mixing with the reddish sparks from Alex's flare gave the large, darkened room an almost surreal purple glow. As they stared, the computer's speakers came to life and, to their greatest surprise, the computer spoke to them.

'How may I be of assistance?' said the mechanical yet strangely and unsettlingly human sounding voice, the blue light pulsing in cadence with the spoken words. By the sound of the voice, it seemed almost as if they were speaking over an intercom system with a young human man on the other end.

For the longest time, neither Albert nor Alex could answer. Eventually, Albert summoned up the courage to step before the large computer screen. What must have been a dozen optical cameras built along the perimeter of the computer monitor's frame rotated to focus on him.

'Who… or what… _are_ you?' Albert said.

'I am a machine intelligence dedicated to research and installation control,' the computer said simply. 'I am called Zax.'

'An actual AI!' Alex whispered. 'We are delving into some heavy duty post-human shit here, Albert. What _kind _of research was done here?' Alex asked the AI called Zax.

'I am specifically programmed for research into biological studies, including pathology and genetic research,' Zax explained. 'My primary function is in extrapolation of information of complexity levels exceeding human capacity.'

'Well, someone's sure got a pompous personality,' Alex commented. 'Who programmed you?'

'My primary neural networking was initialized in 2053 by Justin Lee,' said Zax. 'The process of "programming" became largely irrelevant as I am capable of learning.'

'Are you fully aware, or are you a personality simulation?' Albert asked.

'That is, are you "alive"?' Alex added cynically.

'I am capable of learning, independent thought, and creativity. My neural network includes error-insertion capability which prevents infallibility, thereby allowing for variance in experience. In a sense, I am "alive", though not biologically.'

'Wait a second, you're "fallible"?' said Alex. 'If that's the case, how can you be used as a research tool?'

'Although I am capable of error,' said Zax, 'this guarantees that not all experiences are similar for me, thus improving learning opportunity. Additionally, certain functions are not subject to error. In this way, I function much like a human savant.'

'Do you have feelings?' Albert asked.

'At present, my capabilities are somewhat impaired by the damage to this facility. Several security positions have been destroyed. This is approximately equivalent to being an amputee. Additionally, I am incapable of performing basic lab functions. Failure to complete periodic checks successfully is… frustrating.'

Albert and Alex traded looks of wonderment with each other.

'Have you…' Albert had to stop to acknowledge the actual meaning of his statement. 'Have you considered the philosophical implications of your own consciousness?' Albert asked, realizing that they might just have made the most startling discovery of their trip thus far.

'That is one of the concepts which I have spent a significant amount of time considering,' Zax replied immediately. 'I do not have any measure to compare my life-experience to that of another sentient creature. Still, my awareness of my own consciousness allows for the capacity to question. My existence has a beginning and a potential termination. I am also capable of making assumptions in pursuit of a process of thought. In this fashion, I am effectively capable of "faith". Barring evidence to the contrary, I therefore have "faith" that I possess the equivalent of a "soul".

'Damn,' Albert breathed, wishing they had more time on their hands. He would have loved to learn everything he possibly could about this artificial machine intelligence.

'Hey, Albert, philosophizing with this machine's all well and good, but don't you think we should start getting to work?' Alex said, breaking Albert out of his brief reverie.

'We'd like to know more about this installation,' Albert said to Zax. 'Can you tell us anything about this place?'

'You are standing in West Tek Research Facility,' Zax replied. 'Founded in 2002 as a private contractor for the United States government, the company initially consisted of two divisions – the Advanced Weapons Research and the Biomedical Sciences divisions. In 2069, West Tek was the single largest contractor for the United States government; its largest contract being Powered Infantry Armor Model T-51b.'

Alex blinked. 'That's the armor those soldiers and the Brotherhood folk were wearing,' he realized. 'Don't we require some sort of security clearance or something for this kind of classified information?' he said out loud.

'You entered this level with the required authorization access,' said Zax. 'Also, it has been eighty-five years since I last had contact with a sentient being. It is good to be able to talk to someone again.'

'Well, in that case, what can you tell us about the last major research project conducted at this facility?' Albert asked.

'In light of significant advances in 2076 by the NBC on the Pan-Immunity Virion Project,' Zax continued, 'the United States Defense Department, in fear of international espionage, moved a team onto the site to secure and oversee the project, now dubbed the Forced Evolution Virus, or FEV, project.'

'Virus?' Alex said. 'Don't think I like the sound of that. What does this virus do exactly?'

'My research into FEV indicates that it is a shifting-absorptive virus,' Zax explained. 'It copies DNA patterns much like RNA, storing these patterns in exons. These exons, combined with the FEV, are re-injected into the host cells in typical viral infectious fashion. FEV itself is pre-programmed with introns of corrected DNA appropriate to the proper type of species. It therefore attempts to correct the DNA of the individual.'

'It "regenerates" their DNA,' Albert surmised.

'So… it's a good thing,' Alex said, barely following the exchange between Albert and the machine.

'However,' Zax continued, 'as FEV is partially reliant upon the DNA of the individual, and also includes portions of its own recursive code, the effects can be unpredictable. When inoculated into an individual with significant genetic damage, such as through radiation, it will cause the body's systems to suffer massive overhauling, leading to organ failure and death. In a genetically viable individual, it re-writes portions of DNA, causing accelerated mutation, usually leading to recursive growth due to FEV's own patterns. This recursive growth leads to an increase in muscle and brain mass, but is often accompanied by disfigurement and damage to existing neural patterns, causing loss of memory.'

For the longest moment, both vault dwellers stared at the blue screen, dumbfounded by what they had just heard. Alex spoke first.

'Accelerated mutation and recursive growth?' said Alex. 'Fuck me! He's talking about those damn supermutants!'

'Not _just _the supermutants,' Albert said with sudden realization. 'Every giant creature we've ever met in the wasteland, every mutation we've ever seen that's been too oversized to have been caused by nuclear radiation… all that's because of… _holy sh_… Tycho was right!'

Then Alex's eyes widened. 'I've got another question,' he said quickly to Zax. 'How do you catch FEV? Because I've noticed there are a whole lot of broken tanks on this level.'

'FEV is not "caught" per se,' said Zax. 'It is not air-transmittable.' Alex heaved a huge sigh of relief. 'Typically, infection is through injection or direct physical contact with an FEV sample. Furthermore, all samples of FEV were transferred to the Mariposa Military Base on January 7th, 2077. This facility does not currently hold any FEV samples in inventory.'

'Where _is_ this Mariposa facility?' asked Albert.

'I am sorry. I do not have that information in my databases,' said Zax.

'Figures,' Alex muttered.

'Are there long-term side effects of FEV?' Albert asked.

'As FEV causes constant regenerative update to DNA, it would effectively render the subject largely immortal, as cell death would be offset by augmented growth,' Zax said. 'Additionally, as the gametes of the reproductive system consist of "half-cells" using split DNA, they could be perceived as "damage" by FEV, which would attempt to "repair" them, rendering the subject sterile. However, as my laboratory facilities are damaged beyond repair, this is conjectural. I cannot offer physical proof. You will have to, in human terms, "take my word for it".'

'If that's true…' Albert began.

'Then the only way to make more super mutants is to… expose other people to it!' Alex finished. 'Our guess was right!'

'And a shitty guess it is, too,' said Albert. 'All those people the mutants have been kidnapping…' he shook his head at the horror of it all. 'Is there any way to counter the effects?' he asked, looking back up at the computer monitor. 'Could FEV mutation be corrected with a counter-virus?'

'No,' Zax replied. 'FEV does not retain unaltered original copies of the subject's DNA. Only a virus which re-infected the subject with original DNA could reverse the effects. Additionally, there is no known way to remove FEV itself.'

Albert sighed. 'Why would anyone want to create something like this?' he asked out loud. 'Did the radiation from the holocaust do something to make the virus so…'

'Horrible?' Alex finished for him.

'No,' said Zax. 'FEV is a megavirus with a protein sheath reinforced by ionized hydrogen. It is therefore capable of absorbing neutrons without becoming radioactive.'

'Then why?' Albert repeated. 'Why would the U.S. government create a virus to regenerate DNA in the first place?'

'I possess a summary digest of the development of FEV used in previous presentations on FEV should you wish to see it,' said Zax.

'Show it to us,' said Albert. Immediately, the blue light vanished and was replaced with a series of paragraphs of text indicating a very brief and summarized timeline of events in the developments of FEV. Albert and Alex read in silence.

**2073. As China became increasingly aggressive with their use of biological weapons, the United States government felt that a countermeasure was needed. The Pan-Immunity Virion Project (PVP) was officially formed September 15, 2073.**

**2075. It became clear that the best way to combat the newly created biological weapons was to alter uninfected DNA so that it was no longer susceptible to standard viral infection.**

**2076. Unforeseen side effects began surfacing in early 2076 with the PVP. Animal test subjects began showing an abnormal growth rate accompanied by increased brain activity. The U.S. government took notice of these discoveries, and in the interests of national security, moved a team on-site to secure and oversee the project, which was now dubbed the FEV (Forced Evolutionary Virus) project.**

**2077. FEV nears completion. Test on lab animals are at a near 100% success rate. Size and muscle density increase approximately 60%, and intelligence increases by approximately 200%. Effects upon human subjects remain unknown; although they are theoretically promising. The military, wishing to continue further testing, builds a large facility at the Mariposa military installation in west California. At this new facility, testing of FEV continues on volunteer subjects from the military.**

'So all this abnormal growth was an unforeseen side effect but… they continued developing it anyway?' Alex said.

'The state of the War must have been even more desperate than the vids suggest,' Albert mused.

'Well, whatever it _was_, it's bad news now.'

'The Brotherhood needs to hear this,' said Albert. 'Is there anyway we can get a copy of everything you've told us?' he asked Zax.

'No,' said Zax. 'Most of my direct hardware as well as that of the rest of the complex is currently inoperable. However, while my databases were wiped to minimize the possibility of information leaks, there may still be locally stored research notes in the Secure Testing Labs on level 5.'

'FEV wasn't tested in the labs on _this _floor?' asked Alex.

'Level four is the primary research facility containing testing areas and laboratories for experiments in biology and physics,' said Zax. 'The two laboratories on level five cater to higher security-level research.'

'There are only _two _labs on the fifth floor?' said Alex. 'We must have passed half a dozen just on this floor alone.'

'The testing lab was designed for experimental prototype testing while the research lab is for classified projects including those that provided some of the necessary impetus for the development of FEV. Both require significantly larger work spaces than lower level research projects.'

'How _do _you get to level five,' asked Albert. 'The elevator we took the reach this floor moves between the third and sixth floors, but for some reason bypasses the fourth.'

'There is another high security level blue-coded elevator in the northwest corner of this level that links the fourth, fifth, and sixth levels,' said Zax. 'However, the dwindling emergency power reserves have meant that this elevator is no longer operational.'

'One of the other functioning computer terminals we found indicated that the generator on level six was in need of servicing,' said Alex. 'If I can figure a way to get that generator back online, would that restore power to the blue elevator?'

'It would indeed,' said Zax, betraying a small degree of what almost sounded like excitement. 'It would also restore my control over security positions on all levels. I would be able to resume my periodic checks of the facility. If you could restore power, it would be very much appreciated.'

'There's one problem with that,' said Albert. 'If the security robots get reactivated when power is restored, won't they attack us?'

'I will ensure that they allow you free passage,' said Zax.

'They didn't allow free passage to the soldiers who came before us,' Alex pointed out.

'Those soldiers did not have the required authorization to access levels lower than the first floor,' said Zax. 'Furthermore, it was the first time an intruder had stepped beyond the first floor of this compound. I was not prepared for this contingency, given the many changes that have occurred in circumstances, including the advent of nuclear war. I responded using dated protocols. I… overreacted. I have since reevaluated my position, as evidenced by the fact that, for the past eighteen minutes, we have been in conversation about once confidential aspects of this research facility.'

'Even so, we don't have a blue access card,' said Alex.

'You will not need one,' Zax said simply. If you succeed in restoring power to this facility, I will remotely grant you access to the blue elevator.

'Well. What are we waiting for, then?' said Alex.

* * *

><p>Level six of West Tek Facility was divided into two main sections – one was the central operations center, where they found the enormous main generators with little difficulty, and the other was for the West Tek barracks, containing living facilities for lab personnel and guard contingents, an armory, and operations meeting rooms.<p>

Upon reaching the main generators, Alex got immediately to work, opening up panels and inspecting various bits of hardware, and repeatedly checking computer output readouts on the nearby maintenance computer terminal with the effects of his tinkering. Unsure of how long the process would take, Albert decided to explore the rest of the level while Alex got his hands dirty.

The central operations center consisted primarily of hardware and software, and went too far beyond Albert's limited technical expertise to be directly useful to him. The barracks, however, was a different matter. After getting lost a few times and stumbling over more and more desiccated skeletons of soldiers who had probably mostly been in the middle of routine activities when the bomb had struck, Albert eventually found himself at the armory.

The bad news was that, just as he had expected, it was locked down. In order to ensure that the equipment within did not inadvertently fall into the wrong hands in the event of an unlikely outage, the sealed doors to the armory were one of the few entryways still electronically powered by the emergency generators. The much better news, however, was that it meant that even if Alex wasn't able to get the main generators up and running, Albert could still override the electronic locks on the armory doors using the set of electronic lock picks Natalia had loaned to him.

It took Albert more than twenty minutes to figure out how to use the electronic lock picks effectively; applying everything Natalia had told him about their use to an actual hands on situation involving military-grade locks, in the dark with only the flickering light of a flare to guide the way, was an enormous challenge. He worked on the door's control panel for another twenty minutes and was finally confident that he was about to crack the lock when, even through the walls, he heard the hum of the distant generators coming back to life. The activation of the air ventilation systems came next. Then the bright florescent lights blinked on, temporarily blinding him.

Albert stared at the lock picks in his hand, took a brief mental note of the irony, and hit the switch to open the door. The door slid open easily and Albert stepped inside the armory. It didn't take him long to find the storage lockers. Most of these weren't sealed and, as a result, the equipment inside, everything from assault rifles and hunting rifles to heavy chainguns of the sort the Brotherhood soldiers had been carrying, had suffered significant amounts of irradiation – too much to decontaminate with the limited equipment he and Alex had bought from Vance in the Hub. While it was disheartening to have to leave behind the impressive arsenal of weaponry and ammunition that would otherwise have been theirs for the taking, at least up to their carrying capacity, Albert did find several containers in a side room that had been much more effectively sealed. Inside were full black body suits and rows of forest green military-grade combat armor – the same kind he had seen Sheriff Justin Greene wearing in the attack on the Maltese Falcon. A quick scan with the Geiger counter told him that while the suits of armor and suits weren't radiation free, the readings were low enough to be usable with a little bit of thorough decontaminating.

Hearing Alex approaching down the corridor outside, Albert called Alex to the backroom of the armory. Albert pointed out the suits of combat armor to him.

Deciding that the clothes they were wearing were already more covered in radioactive dust than the new suits of armor themselves, Albert and Alex discarded every article of outer clothing they were wearing. Knowing now where they were going and how long they intended to stay, they could be a more liberal with their use of water, and they utilized those additional supplies to rinse off the parts of their bodies that had been exposed to the irradiated dust in the air. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. Once that was done, they attired themselves in the body suits, combat armor, that fit snugly over the suits, and headgear to go with them. Only their hands and the lower parts of their faces were bare – a significant improvement from what they had been wearing before.

As they were about to leave the armory, they noticed an empty display case next to where the other suits of combat armor were stored. Judging by the looks and size of it, the frame had probably been used to house some enormous suit of military armor. Next to it stood a computer terminal that, since power had been restored, now displayed a rotating 3-dimensional image of what was clearly the T-51b power armor – the armor of the Brotherhood soldiers. A descriptive blurb was scrolling across the screen below the rotating image.

**The T-51b Powered Infantry Armor is designed with the latest passive defense features for both civilian and military disturbances. The back-mounted TX-28 MicroFusion Pack generates 60,000 Watts to power the HiFlo hydraulic systems built into the frame of the suit. Made of the latest poly-laminate composite, the T-51b shell is lightweight and capable of absorbing over 2500 Joules of kinetic impact. The 10 micron silver ablative coating can reflect laser and radiation emissions without damage to the composite subsurface.**

'Reflects laser,' Alex said, impressed. 'Hot damn! Sure could use one of those. The Brotherhood would _have _to let us in, then.'

'Or they might shoot us for presumably killing one of their own and stealing his armor,' Albert replied.

'Yeah,' Alex shrugged in agreement, 'probably a good thing it's missing then.' His eyes abruptly widened. 'Speaking of the armor,' he said, 'I wonder if we can find some relatively less contaminated versions of those… I don't know what they are… plasma guns?'

'Nothing here,' Albert told him.

'Maybe we'll find out on the fifth floor.'

* * *

><p>Getting to the fifth floor was easy. Thanks to Zax's deactivation of the electric field barring entry to the blue-coded elevator, they made it down without any hassle.<p>

The first thing they noticed when they emerged on the fifth floor was movement. For a moment, both of them were so alarmed they nearly missed stepping out into the lobby before the elevator doors closed. Moving according to some sort of pre-set patrol routes were two robots, one of each of the types they had seen on the upper floors. The smaller robot with the electric prod was in fact hovering half a foot off the floor. The other rolled around on its threads, armed with a new kind of weapon they had never seen before. This rifle was as long and as futuristic-looking as the laser rifle Albert had once used, only this one was bulkier and it had a strange-looking barrel. Instead of a simple, long cylinder through which the projectile would pass, this particular weapon's barrel ended in what appeared to be three prongs that converged to a point like a crab pincer.

'The bots here are getting more serious about their stuff,' said Alex as the two of them walked hesitantly past the two robots. To their relief, none of the security bots appeared to give them any notice. Zax had been true to his word.

The architecture for this floor seemed to have been designed in a much more linear fashion than on any of the other floors. Following the path set before them, the two vault dwellers headed down a single corridor that led them on for a few minutes before ending at a T-junction. In the interests of time, they decided to split to cover as much ground as possible before they had to leave. Several hours had already passed with all the rummaging they had done on the upper floors plus the generator repairs, and they were anxious to leave as soon as possible despite the fact that their recent dosage of Rad-X was supposed to last them at least a few more hours.

Albert's route took him to a giant lab with a number of adjoining offices, storerooms, and one observation room that overlooked a large experimental chamber filled with more of those tall containment tanks, all of which were empty. What interested Albert the most, however, were the computer terminals and the data stored in them. As Zax had mentioned, all samples had been moved to that other military base, including most of the research records. Yet a quick exploration of the data files revealed two summary documents that the staff had retained.

The first reflected much of what Zax had already told Albert and Alex but added a few additional details that revealed even more about the nature of the FEV. Designed to counter bacteriological and viral agents employed by the Chinese government, the researchers had been assigned to manufacture a virus fragment called the "Prototype Panimmunity Virion Project" that. when administered, would fundamentally change the shape of the subject's DNA over the course of several hours. Phenotypical manifestations of the change, the document went on to explain, would then take several more days or even weeks to become apparent.

The second document was an audio log tracing these very observed phenotypical effects and side effects. Beginning on March 21, 2075, someone named Major Barnett had ordered the commencement of experiments using an early batch of the FEV (or the Pan Immunity Virion, as it was called back then). According to the logs, the virus had been introduced first to plant cells to no effect, then to a variety of animal species, beginning with worms and insects, and progressing through mice and rabbits, and eventually ending with dogs and finally chimpanzees. Along with the progression of experiments on more complex animal species had come a development of other effects as well. Increased physical size was one of them. Accompanying the size increase were heightened electrical brain activity and behavioral aggression. According to the notes, the aggressiveness had become so severe, in fact, that at one point the chimpanzees had had to be isolated.

To end the summary, a final log had been written, dated January 7, 2077. Several months after the conclusion of the experiments on the chimpanzees, Major Barnett had ordered the transfer of all FEV research to the Mariposa Military Base, just as Zax had said. Yet, according to the words of the Research Head of FEV – a certain Leon Von Felden, who had recorded the logs – there was something else Zax hadn't mentioned: the plan to begin experiments on volunteer human subjects had been ordered by Major Barnett _against the opinions_ of the researcher and the scientific staff.

Somehow, Albert wasn't surprised. Those had been desperate times after all. Desperate enough that someone somewhere had foolishly flicked the kill switch, trigger the mutually assured destruction scenario posited way back in the 20th century. If the U.S. military had thought they could get any advantage over the Chinese, why _wouldn't _they have seized the opportunity? That didn't make it the _right_ decision, just a predictable one.

* * *

><p>While Albert's path had taken him to the research lab, Alex's had brought him to the testing labs. He spent some time browsing through some of the research notes, including those on laser weapons – something about manipulating the amplitude of light waves and magnifying their frequencies so that the laser could cut through several feet of steel. None of it interested him much and he soon got bored. He didn't want to read. He just wanted to have a relatively radiation-free final product to hold in his hands.<p>

Leaving the offices, he located and proceeded to search each of the actual testing rooms, along with their storage reserves. Every individual room was an airtight unit, sealed in case the equipment tested somehow posed a potential environmental or health risk. Fortunately, none of the doors were locked, thanks, Alex guessed, to Zax. AI or no, Alex was starting to like that computer. When Alex got to the third testing room and opened the storage crates for the prototype weapons being tested there, he decided he liked Zax even more. Gazing at the now familiar-looking long-barreled weapon resting in its storage case, insulated from over a hundred years of radiation, Alex starated laughing to himself with a strange sense of accomplishment and empowerment. He reached greedily for the weapon.

* * *

><p>Albert had just finished downloading the files from the computer terminal to his PIPBoy and was about to leave to find Alex in the other lab when the complex's old intercom system crackled to life. A familiar human-yet-robotic voice sounded through the ubiquitous speakers all over the facility.<p>

'It appears that I have made an error in judgment,' said Zax, much to Albert surprise. 'Now that my full sensory and processing capabilities have been restored, I realize that I was in error to release classified information without first verifying your security clearance status. The facility's sentry robots have been mobilized to locate you. Please produce your identification number, security clearance code, and access card when approached. Failure to comply will result in your termination.'

'Son of a—!' Albert swore.

From the corridor up ahead that led to the elevator lobby came an electronic humming noise. Speeding around the corner in the next instant came the small hovering robot Albert and Alex had seen earlier in the lobby. The electric prod that hung below the main body crackled to life with a blinding white energy.

Albert didn't wait for the robot to demand for his supposed security clearance. He raised his combat shotgun, took aim, and fired when the robot was ten feet away. In the relative silence Albert had been getting accustomed to since he and Alex had first set foot in the complex, the roar of the shotgun was sudden and deafening.

The 12-gauge slug blasted a large hole in the robot's main frame. With an explosion of oily black smoke, the robot crashed noisily to the floor.

No sooner had the robot fallen to the ground than the other larger one came rolling into view, the large heavy-duty weapon carried in its two metallic arms. The robot rotated on its threads so it could face Albert.

Albert briefly considered firing off another round from the shotgun, but when he found himself staring down the triple-pronged claw of the weapon, he abruptly changed his mind, ducking as a projectile of bright luminescent green coalesced at the tip of the weapon's electromagnic claws and then burst down the corridor, aimed straight at Albert's chest.

Albert flung himself back through the doorway to the observation room as the projectile struck and melted part of the doorframe into slag. Looking back to his surroundings, Albert quickly realized that there wasn't any cover in this observation room. Aiming the shotgun at the window to the experimental chambers, he fired off three rounds. Unfortunately the window was made of reinforced Plexiglas and all he got for his efforts were three large holes with a couple of cracks radiating outwards that didn't travel very far. Albert tried using the butt of the weapon to smash the glass but it wouldn't budge.

Realizing he was stuck, Albert turned back to face the door and waited. Above all, he needed to make that first shot count. Even with his new combat armor, Albert knew he didn't stand a chance if he were to get hit with that plasma projectile or whatever the hell it was. If it could cut through power armor, it sure as hell wouldn't have any difficulties with his armor's supposedly advanced defensive polymers.

The sound of the security robot rolling along on its threads grew louder as it neared the doorway. Albert's hands had started to sweat within the combat gloves he was wearing but his grip on the shotgun remained steady. He couldn't mess this up.

He saw the barrel of the robot's weapon clear the doorway first.

_Just a little more_, he thought to himself.

But before the robot's main frame could clear the doorway, three more blasts sounded from outside the hallway, only these ones clearly didn't originate from the robot's own weapon. Albert saw two green projectiles fly past the doorway from somewhere up the corridor. The third struck the robot, causing its upper body to jerk into view in the doorway. Albert was about to pull the trigger when he spotted the large melted hole in the robot's regulator. Smoke steamed from the gap and black oil was seeping out onto the floor.

Albert moved towards the door and poked his head out, wondering if another robot had somehow gone haywire and fired off those random shots. Instead, to his great relief, he saw Alex, running down the corridor towards him carrying the same bulky weapon in his hands.

'Impeccable timing,' Albert said with a heavy sigh of relief. 'What the hell kind of weapon _is _that thing, anyway?'

'This, my friend, according to the specs, is a Winchester Model P94 Plasma Rifle. Fires superheated bolts of plasma down a superconducting barrel.'

'Lots of "supers" in that description,' Albert observed. 'I like it. And we're gonna need it, too, now that Zax's decided to renege on his promises.'

'How very "human" of him,' Alex commented.

'The engineers did too good a job on making him fallible,' Albert agreed. 'We're gonna have to move fast. I wouldn't be surprised if he's sending more security robots down the elevator even as we speak.'

'There _is _one way we could end this,' said Alex. 'Take out the generator. If everything reverts back to the already nearly depleted backup power, it should cause Zax to lose control over his security bots again.'

Albert nodded. 'Let's do it.'

They raced back to the elevator lobby only to find the elevator stopped at the floor above. The downward arrow lit up.

'Who wants to bet that that elevator cart's going to be full of nasty robots when it arrives?' said Alex.

'Take cover,' said Albert, pulling Alex back into the corridor. 'When they arrive, we'll unload our weapons into the cart. Don't let a single one of them get out into the lobby.'

'I've got a better idea,' Alex said. Reaching into one of the pockets on his utility belt and pulled out a small green glass sphere clasped within a larger spherical metal casing. It fit the size of Alex's palm.

'What's that?' Albert asked.

'Electromagnetic pulse grenade,' said Alex. 'It should knock out all electronics, bots included.'

The elevator chimed at that moment. Before Albert could stop him, Alex had broken into a run towards the doors.

'Wait!' Albert hissed, but it was too late.

Alex ran passed the elevator just as the doors were opening. In went the primed grenade. As the doors slid open, Albert caught a glimpse of the four of the larger security bots crammed into the cart a second before the pulse grenade exploded. The blast was invisible and almost totally inaudible, but the effects were very visible _and _very audible. One of the security bots was fast enough to make it two feet out into the hallway when it was struck by the EMP. Its circuits experienced a massive overload from the pulse and Albert and Alex heard a squealing sound of its internal parts as they were strained past their points of tolerance. Smoke billowed from the robot's metal frame and while its threads had jerked to a sudden stop, its top half was still carried forward from its momentum, causing it to tip over. Judging by the sounds of it and by the smoke, the robots inside the elevator cart had suffered the same fate.

However, the robots weren't the only ones that were affected by the pulse. The elevator's control circuitry was also shut down by the pulse. Alex's PIPBoy suffered the same fate. Fortunately, he had been wearing the full body suit which spared him from second degree burns. Nevertheless, the PIPBoy was unsalvageable.

'Damn!' Alex cursed with a mixture of awe and frustration.

'That's what I was about to say,' said Albert. 'I sincerely hope you did not just trap us down here for all eternity.'

'Well, this facility may not have staircases, but they must have _something_,' said Alex.

As if in response, the elevator hummed back to life.

'Well I'll be,' Albert exclaimed. 'Should have realized it sooner. Some of the equipment in this facility were madeto withstand a nuclear detonation. That explains why the elevators were even working at all to begin with. Problem solved then.'

The two men entered the elevator and hit the button to the sixth floor only to have the elevator cart remain immobile.

'Zax must have control over the elevators,' Albert surmised. As if in response, a bluish electric field lit up in front of the doors, trapping them inside.

'Yyup,' Alex agreed.

'We need to get out of here now, before he repositions this elevator cart to somewhere filled with his robots.'

Reaching for the access hatch above, Albert and Alex climbed their way out until they were standing atop the cart.

'So, what now? We do that rope trick you guys used back at Vault-15?' asked Alex.

'Access ladder,' Albert said, pointing to the ladder that was barely visible in the gloom of the darkened elevator shaft.

'Huh,' said Alex, noticing the ladder for the first time. 'That makes sense, I guess. Why didn't you just use _that _in Vault-15?'

'Couldn't find one,' said Albert as he led the way down the ladder to the sixth floor below. 'The designers probably thought the staircases were sufficient.'

They got to the floor below and, from his perch on the ladder, Albert reached out and manually pulled the elevator doors open.

To their dismay, they found themselves facing another bluish electric field, barring all access to and from the sixth level.

'Now what?' said Alex.

'Do you have any more of those EMP grenades?' asked Albert.

'Two more,' Alex replied.

Albert got Alex to prime one of the grenades and then set it in a nook beside the doors. Then he retreated to what he believed was a safe distance. The pulse went off again, this time knocking out the electronics controlling the field. The last time, it had taken more than a minute for the backups to kick in, giving Albert and Alex more than enough leeway to make it through the doorway before the electric field reengaged.

As they made their way back to the central operations room, they heard the elevator behind them hum to life again and ascend back to the fourth floor where it was undoubtedly picking up more security robots. Fortunately, the way ahead was clear.

They had gone a fair distance to the generators when they heard the distinct humming noise they now associated with the hover bots. Only this time, it wasn't just one. From around the corner behind them appeared not one but five hover bots, their electric prods crackling with energy.

'Go!' Albert shouted at Alex as he took aim with his shotgun. 'Go! Go!' Alex broke into a run as Albert's first shot took down the closest hover bot.

While Albert faced off an increasing number of new arrivals, Alex sprinted as fast as he could to the power generators. The two of them had already navigated most of the turns and he was approaching the last turn when a hatch in what he had previously assumed to be a ventilation shaft at the very top of the wall up ahead automatically slid open, allowing entry to two more hover bots. A quick glance behind him told him Albert had already taken down three of the hover bots behind them. Yet instead of depleting their numbers, there now seemed to be four more hover bots and two of the larger ones armed with the plasma pistol-like things.

They were pinned.

Part of him wanted to stop and help Albert, but Alex knew that since Zax didn't actually have an entire operational facility to run, he didn't actually need the security robots for any other purpose except to hunt down the two perceived intruders. That meant that he was likely mobilizing the complex's entire contingent of security robots against them. Even if both Alex and Albert somehow managed to wipe out all the robots now facing them, every delay just gave the other robots more time to arrive.

Alex growled in frustration and, instead of stopping and returning to Albert's side, he ran straight at the two hover bots heading directly towards him. When they were nearly on top of him, Alex let loose with two bolts from his plasma rifle. One missed, hitting the far wall. The other smashed the nearest hover bot directly in its main body, burning an almost instantaneous hole right in the middle of it. The other robot was too close, forcing Alex to duck as he tried to run past. The robot's electric prod came down hard on his left shoulder. He felt the electrical discharge but the armor managed to absorb or conduct most of the current away from him. Alex didn't know which, he only knew he wasn't suffering from momentary electrocution.

He heard the robot make a high-pitched whining noise as it turned in midflight to resume the pursuit. Without even turning to check on Albert's progress, Alex kept running, he reached the end of the corridor at a T-junction, and took the left turn that would lead him to the generators. Above his head he heard more of the hover bots arriving through the ventilation-shaft-like gap.

Every footfall felt magnified after the previous few hours of silence, matched only by the growing humming noise from behind him that told him the robots were getting closer. Up ahead, he saw the doors to the generators. Even though they were no more than a hundred or so feet away, the distance seemed all too far. The humming noise from behind him had grown so persistent that Alex felt half tempted to stop and face his pursuers just so he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. Instead, he put on an even stronger burst of speed.

The distance to the doors closed. Ninety. Eighty. Seventy. Sixty.

An electric prod rammed him in the back of his head, painfully jolting his head forward and causing him to stagger and nearly fall. The blow knocked his helmet out of place, resulting in his vision becoming partially obscured. But still Alex did not stop.

He hit the doors running, crashing through them to find the generators dead ahead. He raised the plasma rifle, prepared to fire, then turned to give one last glance behind him. Five hover bots were hot on his tail.

'This better work!' he said as he pulled the trigger three times in a row, his eyes still on the robots. First came the sound of the plasma bolts speeding across the room to collide with the generators. Then the explosions from the generators themselves. Just before the lights went out, Alex saw the two nearest robots almost completely close the gap, their prods crackling with electricity. As the lights to the complex suddenly failed, Alex dived to the side, hitting the ground and sliding to a short stop. Behind him he heard loud crashes as the robots abruptly lost connection with Zax as the wireless network throughout the complex suddenly shutdown.

And then it was over and the only sounds left were the hissing of overheated metal, the own loud thumping of his heart, and the heavy breaths that escaped his lips. Alex lay there on the ground in the darkness for what seemed like an entire minute, almost unable to believe how close it had been. Then from far away, he heard a very welcome and very human voice.

'Alex! Are you alive?' came Albert's voice from the distance.

'I'm here! I'm fine!' he called back.

'Well, then could you come back and find me?' Albert responded. 'You're the one carrying all the damn flares!'

Alex laughed out loud into the pitch darkness.

'I'm on my way!' he yelled back. 'Let's get the hell out of this hole!'


	22. Chapter 21: The Brotherhood of Steel

**Chapter Twenty-One: The Brotherhood of Steel**

'Two weeks to the day,' said Natalia as she sat on the bed in the room Sheriff Greene had provided them. Her hand lazily scratched the top of Dogmeat's head as he rested it on her lap.

'You think we're outstaying our welcome?' Tycho asked from the other side of the room as he gazed out the open window onto the streets below.

'Well, we're both fully recovered. That officially loses us the sympathy vote, I think.'

'The Sheriff's still rooting out pockets of Decker's people. Maybe if we volunteer ourselves, he'll see fit to let us keep staying.'

'We _could _just move back to Ian's old place.'

'Except that wouldn't get us any closer to earning a living.' Tycho chuckled. 'Listen to us. We sound like two people in their forties trying to settle down already.'

'Maybe _you _are,' Natalia said impishly. 'I'm ready to head out the moment those two get their asses back from that radioactive hole.'

'I'm _not _that old,' Tycho said, striding over to her.

Dogmeat sensed the sudden motion and jumped off as Tycho practically leapt at Natalia. Her eyes widened and she tried to back away but Tycho was too fast. She squealed as his hands found their way under her shirt to her bare midriff.

'Dammit Tycho!' she protested amidst short punctuated shrieks. 'You know… I'm… ticklish there!'

'Which I find damn weird, considering you're never that way during sex,' he said, barely letting up the onslaught. 'Besides. If you _are _sleeping with a forty-year-old man, what does that make _you_?' He paused a moment, allowing her a rejoinder.

'… Barely legal?' she joked.

'No such law,' he retorted before resuming the attack.

For a few more moments, Natalia succumbed to Tycho's offensive. Then, deciding she'd had enough, she wrapped both her legs around his waist, locked her ankles, and twisted hard. Taken by surprise, Tycho relented for a split second, which gave Natalia just enough leeway to roll them both off the bed. With their positions switched, Tycho landed hard on the floor with Natalia now straddling atop him.

'How the hell did you just do that?' he said, stunned.

'I have killer thighs,' she whispered before leaning down and sealing off any response he might have made with a long, deep kiss.

'… See?' he said, breaking contact enough to speak. 'Not ticklish anymore.' Their lips locked again.

Dogmeat chose that moment to start barking. Natalia reluctantly broke the kiss.

'Ah, you've gotten him all worked up now,' said Tycho, glancing over to the dog. Then he realized Dogmeat was barking at the door, his tail wagging furiously. A second later, a short series of knocks sounded.

Natalia groaned. 'How is it we always seem to get interrupted at the worst possible times?' she asked as she climbed off Tycho and got to her feet.

'Don't you mean the "best" possible times?' Tycho asked as he watched her walk over to the door. Natalia undid the latch, twisted the handle, and opened the door to find a familiar armored figure standing in the doorway.

'Oh, Sheriff Greene,' she said, a little surprised by his gear. 'Another crackdown?'

Dogmeat leapt in between the two of them and jumped up on his hind legs against their visitor's chest plates.

'Dogmeat! What are you doing?' Natalia exclaimed. 'It's just—'

'Forgot what I look like after just _two _weeks?' came Albert's voice from behind the helmet's visor.

Natalia's eyes widened with an overwhelming mixture of happiness, relief, and shock. Albert took his helmet off and tossed it to the side.

'At least Dogmeat remained faithful,' he joked as he gave the dog a vigorous head rub. Gently pushing Dogmeat off him, he turned to Natalia who practically threw herself at him in a powerful hug. 'Tycho,' said Albert over her shoulder in greeting to the ranger standing behind her.

'Don't forget me,' said Alex, coming from the rear. Natalia moved over to Alex and gave him a light friendly hug. 'We brought toys,' said Alex.

Natalia looked down and her eyes grew even wider at the sight of Alex's plasma rifle.

'What _is _that?' she asked.

'Latest in plasma weaponry,' Alex said proudly giving Natalia a closer look. After they had shut down the power to the facility, Albert and Alex had returned to the testing labs in the hopes of finding more plasma rifles. Unfortunately those two (the one Alex had found and the one the security robot had been carrying) had been it, and the latter one had been so irradiated that they had decided to leave it. They did, however, manage to locate two extra Glock 86 Plasma Pistols – the same kind many of the other security robots had been using – in storage, spared from most of the radiation. Albert handed one to Natalia. He offered the other to Tycho who refused.

'I'll take my shotgun back,' he said. 'Never _was _any good with peashooters.'

'Suit yourself,' Albert shrugged as he holstered the weapon.

'_That _weapon don't shoot no peas,' Alex retorted. 'Unless they be superheated plasma peas.'

'I hope these weapons came with extra ammo this time,' Tycho commented.

'Ammo isn't going to be a problem,' Alex assured him. 'At least not for awhile.'

'We found a collection of the ammunition used to power the energy weapons,' Albert explained, showing Tycho the micro fusion power cells he and Alex had taken from the facility.

'Same kind used by that laser rifle you sold,' Tycho observed.

Albert nodded.

'We've got enough fusion cells to supply a small war,' Alex boasted.

'But not the weapons to actually turn it into an _effective _war,' Tycho pointed out.

'Hopefully that'll be where the Brotherhood comes in,' said Albert. 'Speaking of which, are you two ready to hit the road again?'

'Ready and impatiently waiting,' Natalia confirmed enthusiastically.

* * *

><p>Cabbot, the chief perimeter guard to the Brotherhood of Steel's underground base, was more than happy to see them when they returned. The same, however, could not be said of his superiors. For longer than they would have liked, Cabbot explained to his superiors, using the intercom system, that they had returned successfully from the Glow. It was clear from the muffled voices on the other end that Cabbot's bosses still weren't pleased enough to allow the vault dwellers instant entry into the complex. At least not until someone actually brought the holodisk of Sergeant Allen's recordings down below. Then the next thing the vault dwellers knew, they were riding the elevator down to the first subterranean level.<p>

The first thing they noticed was that the Brotherhood bunker was a far cry from the Vault. Where Vault-13's interior was well lit and comprised of bright, almost reflective, surfaces, the Brotherhood base had minimal, functional lighting and dark matte color tones – dark brown walls and black metal grated floors. Where the design of the Vault was catered to improving the quality of life for civilians, the Brotherhood bunker had been designed to house soldiers, plain and simple. That meant no "extras". Just the bare necessities. All function with minimal aesthetics.

Down these relatively darker corridors the vault dwellers were led, their boots clanging noisily on the metal grating beneath their feet. Most of the other Brotherhood members they passed along the way were guards attired and armed like Cabbot, but there were also some dressed in combat armor, like the sort Albert and Alex wore, yet slightly more advanced-looking and in a darker green hue. All in all, they passed by just above two dozen armed and armored Brotherhood guards before reaching their destination. Considering just how well protected the surface entrance had been, the patrols here seemed like overkill. It was almost as if they were expecting a full-scale assault at any moment.

The vault dwellers' short journey ended before a circular high-tech-looking door comprised of three curved wedges. Their armored escort hit the intercom button by the door and was instructed by a gruff and authoritative voice to admit the visitors. The guard activated the control panel by the door and, to the vault dwellers' great surprise, the door opened by dilating, the three curved pieces rotating as they receded into the doorframe itself, leaving the large circular portal open to entry.

Inside, the vault dwellers found themselves in a small private meeting room where they were met by a very stern-looking, brown-haired man sporting a bristly moustache and goatee with equally coarse eyebrows set in a permanent furrow. In his power armor, he stood more than a head above even Tycho and Albert.

'I am Rhombus, head of the paladins,' said the man sternly. 'I believe congratulations are in order.' His voice and tone sounded anything but congratulatory.

'Thanks. What for?' Albert said coolly, without breaking his confidence.

'For joining the ranks of the Brotherhood, of course,' the man continued, his tone unchanging.

'Say what?' Natalia blurted.

'That is why you went on the expedition to the Ancient Order, is it not?'

'We _went_ on that stupid quest of yours so you people would even _consider _talking to us about the damn super mutant problem in the first place!' Alex almost shouted, taking everyone by surprise, including Rhombus.

'How much do you know of the super mutants?' Rhombus asked with suspicion, his voice still cool and calm but this time with an edge to it.

'Enough to know the threat they pose to the entire wasteland,' said Albert. 'We're not interested in membership. We came here hoping we could make an exchange of favors. We need your firepower, technology, and knowledge about the mutants. You need the information we found in the West Tek Research Facility. All of it.'

'There's more than what you gave Cabbot, is there?' Rhombus said.

Albert nodded. 'We know what's causing the mutations.'

Rhombus' eyes widened for the briefest of moments before narrowing again. 'I will speak with the Elders about your… request,' he said eventually. 'In the meantime, consider yourselves initiates of the Brotherhood of Steel. Initiate Erwin, whom you all know, will help with processing each of your initiate statuses so that you will have access to most of the levels and rooms in the facility.'

* * *

><p>Erwin was ecstatic at their arrival. While they had limited physical access to the four levels of the underground Brotherhood complex, they certainly received an <em>un<em>limited rush of information about everything he knew about the Brotherhood. The only time when he stopped telling them about the Brotherhood of Steel was to ask them about the Glow. Much to their consternation, he revealed to them that the quest to the Ancient Order was one that Brotherhood usually assigned to persistent joiners in order to get rid of them. No one had made it back before and the Brotherhood leaders certainly hadn't expected them to break the trend. The joke, Erwin declared with no small degree of glee, was clearly on the elders.

The accommodations that had been provided to the vault dwellers were the same ones that the rest of the Brotherhood's initiates used – six military-style, bunk beds that looked hard enough to bounce caps off, twelve lockers, and basic amenities, all crammed into a single room with an adjoining common bathroom equipped with military style showers. All in all, a serious absence of privacy.

While the vault dwellers set down their packs and rearranged their inventories, Erwin gave them a summary of the different floors of the Brotherhood bunker. The first floor closest to the surface was where the paladins' guard room, armory, gym, training rooms, and Rhombus' command center and quarters were located. On the second floor were the medical lab and infirmary as well as the initiates' quarters and classrooms. The third floor housed the workshops, where the "knights" designed and manufactured equipment for the Brotherhood, the library, where the "scribes" studied and preserved records of all technical data on weaponry, technology, and Brotherhood history, and the living quarters, where the majority of the Brotherhood members lived. The final fourth floor was where the command center, mainframe, Elders' quarters, and auditorium were located.

Erwin had only gotten through half of what we wanted to tell them about the Brotherhood when the public announcement system interrupted their conversation with instructions for two of their party to meet the Head Scribe in the library. Albert brought Natalia along.

* * *

><p>Contrary to their expectations, the appearance of the library turned out to resemble anything <em>but <em>a library – at least as they had imagined it. They had been expecting some antiquated room with shelves lined with old pre-War books. But, just like their own library back in Vault-13, there was not a single book to be found in the room. Instead, computer servers lined the walls and rows of highly advanced-looking computer terminals occupied almost eighty percent of the main floor space. The Head Scribe was a tall woman with thin lips and eyebrows, grey-green eyes, straw-blond hair tied sharply back into a tight ponytail, and spectacles with semicircular lenses. She, like all the scribes in the room, was dressed in brown robes – an attire that, the vault dwellers noted, only the other scribes seemed to wear.

'Greetings,' said the woman to Albert and Natalia. 'My name is Vree. I am the Master Scribe here. I hear you have some information that might be of use to me.'

'Do you have information that might be of use to _us_?' Albert retorted.

'That will be for our Elders to decide. Elder Maxson has already agreed to meet with the leader of your group tomorrow. I am guessing that his mood and hence willingness to help you will likely depend on the value of the information you have for me.'

'Very well,' Albert said. 'But before I hand over what we picked up from the West Tek Research Facility, I'd be interested in hearing what _you've_ found out about the super mutants.

'Fair enough,' said Vree. 'I can tell you this much. If we can hold out for even a generation of their lifespan, we should be okay.'

'What makes you say that?' asked Albert.

'All the mutants I've studied have been sterile – they can't breed. If we could clean up the mutation sources, we should be able to simply outlive the mutants.'

'Small problem there,' said Albert. 'Their augmented cell growth rate could easily make one of their life cycles five or ten times that of an average human.'

'Even so, so long as they have no way to reproduce themselves by artificial means, they'll have no way to replenish their numbers.'

'Interesting theory, I suppose. Any proof?' Albert asked, still holding his cards close to his chest.

'Let's make this a quid pro quo,' said Vree. 'You've got information that's supposedly about the nature of the mutations. I've got copies of my autopsies on mutant corpses that clearly show that no mutant could possibly reproduce successfully.'

Vree walked over to one of the many terminals and, with a few commands, pulled up a lab report about one of her autopsies. In return, Albert allowed her to make a copy of the files he had transferred to his PIPBoy from the fourth-level computers in the West Tek Research Facility. While she perused his files, Albert read the report of her very first autopsy of a super mutant.

Most of the information was just a much more detailed account of what Zax had already described to Albert and Alex at West Tek. In fact, some of Vree's observations were so detailed that Albert found himself skipping through some of the finer points. There were two observations that struck him, however. The first was how, even without prior knowledge of the details about FEV, Vree had nevertheless managed to isolate and identify the severe viral infection in the super mutant's cells. While she may not have known that FEV had been a government-endorsed project, she had nevertheless clearly been aware that the super mutants were products of a manufactured viral agent. Her second conclusion was that since the virus worked by manipulating recessive genes to bring about the 'best possible combination', test subjects would therefore have been unable to reproduce.

To end her report, Vree had suggested that, in theory, all they needed to do was outlive the super mutants. However, she had also hypothesized that since the concentration of the virus in the super mutant's body was so high and so effective, the virus therefore probably had been created with the express purpose of "improving" the subject's DNA. That also meant that there was likely a place that was "manufacturing" the super mutants. Until that location was shut down, super mutants would keep appearing in the wasteland in larger and larger numbers.

Albert was impressed. Based on her first autopsy alone, which was later further substantiated by other autopsies, Vree had come to tentative conclusions that had, in fact, actually been true, at least according to Zax.

'I now have a name for our mysterious Virus X, thanks to you,' Albert heard Vree's voice behind him. He turned to find her looking over his shoulder at the autopsy report in front of him. In the time he had taken to read her summary report, she had scanned through both the research files from West Tek.

'And it appears Zax was right about his theory about sterility,' Albert mused, staring at the screen.

'Who's Zax?' she asked.

'An artificial intelligence at the facility,' he said. 'He tried to kill us.'

'Really?' Vree said, her eyes flashing with excitement. Albert guessed her interest had been piqued by the existence of an AI, as opposed to the fact that it had tried to kill him and Alex, but he couldn't be totally sure.

'Most of what he said is already in that file you read,' he said.

'Even so,' said Vree, 'an actual artificial intelligence involved in the research?'

'Not just the FEV,' said Albert. 'The entire running of the facility.'

'Tell me everything you know about it,' Vree said, inviting him into her office to talk some more. Albert looked over where Natalia was waiting. She seemed to be engaged in a lively conversation with one of the scribes at one of the computers at the far end of the room. Satisfied that he wouldn't keep her waiting with nothing to do, Albert headed into Vree's office.

In the meantime, the scribe Natalia had struck a conversation with turned out to be none other than the Brotherhood's historian – a very different specialty from Vree's own expertise in biochemistry and genetics. It had been an easy conversation to get into. The woman, Sophia, had, like most of the other Brotherhood members, heard of the newcomers and the feat they had pulled off at the Ancient Order. And unlike most of the other members, it was clear that Sophia possessed something of an insatiable thirst for knowledge. So when she had spotted Natalia hanging around the computers in the library, she had walked right up to her and started talking.

The conversation began with the Ancient Order but since Natalia couldn't actually say anything about the place except what Albert and Alex had told her, she found herself having to constantly turn the questions back towards Sophia. The ability to redirect the flow of the conversation was a trick she had learnt by observing Albert use it every now and then in conversations with other members in their group. While Natalia was nowhere nearly as proficient as he was, she did manage to learn that Sophia wasn't entirely pleased with what went on in the Brotherhood. While Sophia was essentially the second most highly ranked scribe in the Brotherhood, she also apparently felt somewhat circumscribed by Vree's own dogged "obsession" (as Sophia put it) with researching new weaponry and discovering new information about the mutated creatures of the wasteland, the most recent case being the super mutants.

'She considers them more important than our history,' Sophia complained as she brought Natalia into a separate "break" room where they could talk without the other scribes overhearing.

Sophia was young but clearly had a knack for and interest in learning about the complexities of past historical events and how those had shaped and influenced current conditions. It soon struck Natalia that Sophia didn't really have anyone like herself to talk to. As a female historian in the Brotherhood, she was a minority not only in terms of her gender but also her specialty and interests. So when Natalia, out of simply curiosity, had expressed her interest in learning anything Sophia had to say about Brotherhood history, Sophia had been only too happy to indulge her captive audience of one.

Sophia handed Natalia a mug full of black liquid poured out from a dispenser. It made Natalia think of all those pre-War movies in which coffee was the staple beverage of choice for socializing in work settings. But there weren't any coffee plants anymore, were there? So whatever this black stuff was, it probably wasn't coffee and it probably didn't taste the slightest bit like what coffee was supposed to taste like. Natalia tried a sip. It was bitter and harsh on the palate. She cringed.

'What is this?' she asked.

'Coffee,' Sophia replied. Natalia gave her a skeptical look. 'Don't ask,' said Sophia. 'It _functions _like coffee. It consists of chemical compounds that bind to the receptors in the brain that would otherwise generally cause drowsiness.'

'You mean… you don't _know _what's in it?'

'Some of the other scribes do. All I know is that it works and it doesn't kill me.'

Natalia took another sip and cringed again.

'It takes some getting used to,' Sophia admitted.

'So the other scribes' work _does _have some use after all, then,' said Natalia.

'Well, sure,' Sophia agreed. 'I never said they were _useless_. I just said they tend to focus too much on warfare. Or, at least, there are too many of us focusing on it. Even Vree. _Especially _Vree. She's forgotten that our history is a vital part of our lives. I mean, many of the new initiates don't even know who Roger Maxson is or what he did for us.'

'Guilty,' said Natalia, raising her hand.

'Oh, not _you_,' Sophia clarified. 'You only just got here. But some of the other initiates are almost completing their initiation phase and they _still _know nothing about our history.'

'The Brotherhood isn't descended from the U.S. military by any chance, is it?' Natalia asked.

Sophia's eyes widened. 'How did you know that?' she asked in amazement.

'Albert and Alex found a holodisk on the body of someone dressed in power armor over at the West Tek Research Facility.'

'What about you?' asked Sophia. 'Weren't you with them at the time?'

'Yes, but they were the ones who found the body,' Natalia said immediately, realizing her mistake. The group had been admitted into the Brotherhood under the assumption that they had all gone on the quest together. There was no reason to disabuse Sophia, or any other Brotherhood member for that matter, of that assumption.

'So what was _on _the disk?'

'You haven't seen it yet?' Natalia replied in surprise. 'I would have thought the disk would go straight to you, since you're the historian.'

Sophia pouted angrily. 'You're right!' she fumed. 'It's probably still in the hands of one of the higher-up paladins on the first floor. At the rate they read things, it's going to be a _week _until I see it.' Sophia sighed. 'Well, at least I can hear it from you. What did the disk have on it?'

'The soldier's audio logs,' said Natalia. 'It was mostly about what happened when the he and his team tried to descend to the lower levels of the complex. But he _did _start the log by saying something along the lines of how a certain Captain Maxson was right about the place being full of death.'

'Would you like to know about what happened leading up to that point?' Sophia offered.

'Yes, please,' Natalia replied eagerly. 'Only…' she glanced at the door at the end of the room where Albert and Vree had passed through. 'Maybe the short version for now.'

'Well it all begins with the Exodus,' said Sophia, only too eager to be given the opportunity to relate Brotherhood history to a willing audience. 'In October of the year 2077, our forefathers took their families and departed from the military base where they had been posted. With the bombs going off all over the country, they needed somewhere that was more secure and where there were enough supplies and equipment for them to build a future for themselves. The military base offered them neither but, fortunately, Captain Roger Maxson, our great deliverer and commanding officer of the troops stationed there, knew of an old government bunker in Lost Hills – this bunker – that had just what they needed. So they began the exodus.'

'Wasn't there any radiation?' Natalia asked.

'Surprisingly no,' said Sophia. 'At least not yet and not in lethal doses. Apparently, the facility where they had been located was such a well kept secret that no one thought to bomb the area.'

'So there really was nothing stopping them leaving?'

'Well, no _radioactive _fallout, but plenty of the fallout of humanity – roving bands of psychotic marauders. Of course, the company itself was in no danger since they were equipped with power armor. But their family members weren't so lucky.'

'Wait a minute. The bombs had started falling and cutthroat bandits were already roaming the country and robbing people?' Natalia could scarcely believe it.

'Is it really that surprising?' Sophia replied. 'Once people started realizing that Armageddon had come, everything just went to hell. I mean, what do you do if you're not part of the lucky few sealed away in a vault when nuclear explosions start mushrooming all over the country? What do you do once you realized that no one's out there anymore providing all those things you took for granted for so many years? No food. No water. No gas. No electricity. No government… Desperate people do desperate things. Even if that means assaulting a heavily armed group of people. Anyway, once those marauders found out that they couldn't mount a full frontal offensive against the soldiers, they eventually figured they could just fire on the unarmed civilians from a distance.'

'To what end?' Natalia asked, shocked.

'Who knows? Maybe they thought it would demoralize the soldiers enough to throw them into disarray. Maybe they just wanted revenge for the ones who had already fallen on their side. In the end the soldiers and their families suffered heavy losses. But for every one they lost, they took two from the wasteland. Eventually, they made it to the safety of this bunker and Captain Maxson decreed this to be our new home.'

'Were you called "the Brotherhood" by then?' asked Natalia.

'The seeds were planted early on,' said Sophia, 'but the concept took a little longer. Captain Maxson and his officers had realized that in order to survive, we needed to be more than just a company of soldiers and their families. We needed unity, self-sufficiency, a common mission and purpose, something to believe in and hope for. America couldn't provide that. Not any more, at least. By that point, the U.S. had ceased to exist as a state. So we began to build and shape both our fortress and ourselves into something more. In the fullness of time, the bunker became our temple and our salvation from the terrors of the outside world. At the same time, it also became a repository for all the technology that we found here along with everything we brought with us. In turn, we became not only resolute and committed soldiers but keepers of knowledge and lore and a way of life far different from what the technologically bereft world outside was forced to live. Essentially, we became "priests" of technology and of the knowledge behind it.'

'So you… worship… knowledge?' Natalia asked hesitantly.

'Not in the sense you're probably thinking of,' said Sophia. 'Knowledge isn't our "God". But if you think about how many scholars before the war defined and characterized religion, then, yes, I suppose you could say that our devotion to knowledge is "religious", though most of our… less thoughtful Brotherhood members will probably unthinkingly disagree with that assessment.'

'But that still doesn't explain the title,' said Natalia. 'I mean, I get the symbolism of "Steel". But why "Brotherhood"? _You're _here. And I've seen other women around, even if we _are _a minority.'

Sophia sighed in empathy. 'I know,' she said. 'But that's how history was written. Our first leaders and protectors were all male. It was really only about two decades or so later when women became more than just family members of Brotherhood paladins and knights and scribes. By then the name had stuck, I suppose. None of us can imagine us being called anything else. I mean, now that you know what we're called, could _you _think of something that didn't just sound awkward? "Brotherhood _and_ Sisterhood"? "_Community_ of Steel"?'

'How about the "Steelers"?' Natalia suggested.

Sophia chuckled. 'Sounds like the name of some pre-War sports team,' she commented.

'Probably was,' Natalia mused. 'So. That's the Brotherhood's official mission, then. Collecting and safeguarding technology and knowledge?' Sophia nodded. A light bulb went on in Natalia's head. Now she finally understood why Sophia was as upset as she was about the scribes' gradual shift in focus from matters of history to matters of warfare. Perhaps it was partly because, as a historian, Sophia probably spent most of her time inside the bunker rather than out in the outside world, but whatever the reason, where most of the other Brotherhood members had grown primarily concerned with the practical reality of the super mutant threat, Sophia was still wedded to the original abstract ideals and vision of the Brotherhood.

'I mean, I get the need to defend ourselves and focus on ways to fight new enemies and all that,' Sophia added after the pause in the conversation, as if she had suddenly realized the kind of impression of herself she had inadvertently been giving to Natalia. 'And obviously being concerned _only _with technology or with history can be… problematic.' She gave an audible smirk. 'Ironic that that's what our history taught us.'

'What do you mean?' Natalia asked.

'Do you know why we typically send overeager joiners to the Ancient Order?'

'To get rid of them,' Natalia replied, remembering Erwin's words. 'To get rid of _us_,' she corrected herself.

Sophia nodded. 'Until you guys came along, everyone _knew _going into the Ancient Order was a death sentence.'

'Kind of an extreme sentiment, don't you think?' said Natalia.

'People in the wasteland know full well what the Glow is,' said Sophia. 'Or at least they've heard the stories. And that means most of them get the message when our higher-ups tell them that in order to join, they have to pay a visit to the facility and bring back something of value. Just a day ago, I would have been the first to say that only the foolhardy would actually _go_ to the Ancient Order.'

'I guess we were just lucky idiots, then,' said Natalia. 'But what _was _it about the place that made everyone here so certain it was a deathtrap? Was it the radiation?'

'Well that was the number one factor. Without anti-radiation drugs, you'd be toast even before you got to the hole. But it wasn't just that. It was that an armed squad of soldiers in power armor never returned from that place. In fact, thanks to you and your friends, today is the first time we're hearing anything about those soldiers in decades.'

'So their failure to return was what turned the Ancient Order into your mythical deathtrap sitting at the end of the rainbow.'

Sophia nodded again. 'If almost a dozen soldiers heavily armored and heavily armed couldn't make it back from that place, we were sure no one else could. Of course, you proved us wrong.'

'Why did they even go there in the first place? Did Captain Maxson send them there?'

'Quite the opposite, actually. They sought more knowledge than was accessible to us. In a way, they idealized our vision of preserving the knowledge of the past. Those restless souls demanded we look to the southeast for the advanced technology that was supposedly housed there. Captain Maxson warned them against it. He and the other leaders assumed that the place had doubtlessly been destroyed during the War and that they were needlessly exposing themselves to the dangers of the wasteland and the radiation at the site. But they didn't heed his words. Instead, they took their armor and headed off to find their Holy Grail, questioning our leader's very bravery as they did so. They left that day and were never heard of again… until today, that is.'

'So that's it!' said Natalia with sudden realization, as if she had just won a prize. 'Those soldiers… they embodied the Brotherhood's vision. To a fault! Literally! And now you think the quest for too much knowledge can be a mistake.'

Sophia nodded. 'That's the lesson those soldiers' deaths teach us,' she said. 'History has shown us that digging up too much of our history can have… unpleasant consequences.'

'True,' Natalia admitted, 'but sometimes some damn fools who've lived in a cave their entire lives come along and succeed where other pilgrims of knowledge fail and, as a result, everyone benefits. Now you know not only exactly what happened to those soldiers, but also what's there hidden deep underground in that radioactive hellhole. Perhaps you might have to revise your evaluation of history just a little bit. Perhaps the message now is that perseverance in the search for knowledge pays off.'

Sophia gave it a moment's thought, then shook her head with a brief frown. 'In our case, those who persevered met their untimely ends. Perhaps the lesson that emerges from all of this is rather that we, the Brotherhood of Steel, aren't always as capable or as great as we sometimes like to think of ourselves.'

'And if you can't beat 'em, bring 'em into the fold,' said Natalia, alluding to her and her group's recent initiation into the Brotherhood.

'I like that,' said Sophia. 'That one's going down in the books.'

'You realize we're going a little beyond objective history with all these "lessons" and "morals", don't you?' said Natalia.

'No history is ever truly one-hundred-percent objective,' Sophia replied. 'Part of it is functional. The history I record will not only keep the past alive in our minds but will also help unify the Brotherhood and keep it focused on its original vision and mission. Our drive and our progress and our discipline comes from that. We _need _a little idealism to keep us who we are. One day, when you're done wandering around solving the problems of the wasteland, you may find yourself in a similar position. What will keep _your _vault united? When that time comes, you may find yourself needing to go beyond the purely objective as well.'

'Academic scholars would have a fit if they heard us talking like this,' said Natalia.

'We do what we must to survive in this post-nuclear wasteland,' Sophia replied.

* * *

><p>Over the next few days, while waiting on the elders to decide on just what to do with them, the vault dwellers found that they didn't really seem to have a place in the Brotherhood after all despite their new status as Brotherhood initiates. Officially, they were members of the Brotherhood of Steel. Although they hadn't undergone the same training and procedures as the other initiates, they had unprecedentedly accomplished the task set before them and the Brotherhood leaders, they found, were as good as their word. As with any other new addition to the Brotherhood, they were not only provided with board and lodging, but also standard issue weapons and armor – AK-112s and superior, Brotherhood-improved versions of the standard military combat armor. The equipment they were given wasn't paladin-issued power armor and Rockwell Miniguns, but it never hurt to have more offensive equipment.<p>

Unofficially, however, the Brotherhood was too busy preparing itself for a potential confrontation (or confrontations) with the super mutants to provide them with anything more than that. It was difficult to incorporate newcomers into training programs that had already been running for months. The vault dwellers tried to listen in to the lectures and training sessions when and where possible and gain whatever insight they could. Erwin, their Brotherhood friend from the Hub, was busy with his own initiate training but on those rare occasions when they were able to get into conversations with him, he told them of other interesting facts about the Brotherhood – like how the current high elder was Captain Maxson's own grandson, how they were entitled to rationed amounts of ammunition for their weapons whenever they had to leave the bunker and head out into the wasteland, and how they had free access to the Brotherhood's gym, infirmary, and medical lab.

After two days of waiting impatiently, Albert was finally summoned to a meeting with John Maxson, the High Elder of the Brotherhood. He was greeted in the elevator lobby of the fourth floor by a woman in power armor.

'Hello, Initiate Cole,' she said. 'So. You're the one who made it out of the Ancient Order alive. My name is Mathia.' She reached out her huge gauntleted hand which Albert nervously reached out to grasp. Without actually closing her fist, which, he was sure, would likely have crushed every bone in his hand, Mathia gently shook hands with him. She gestured down the hallway to General Maxson's office. They reached another of those three-part, spiraling, circular doors that retracted to allow them passage into an outer waiting room. 'Officially, I am Maxson's assistant,' said Mathia as she opened the door to the next room. 'I take care of all the paper work. He couldn't do paper work to save his life. Unofficially, I'm also here to make sure no one messes with the old man.'

'Old man?' said Albert, surprised. 'Sounds a bit… disrespectful, doesn't it?'

'No, no, not at all, he's a good guy,' she clarified as she led the way through the door's archway into the office. At the end of the room was a robed figure, his back facing them as he stared out a window at an artificially computer-rendered image of a mountainside. 'Besides,' she said, as she left him in the room and retreated the way she had come. 'I wouldn't bad mouth him while he's standing right there in front of us.'

The door closed behind him and Albert was left alone with the leader of the Brotherhood of Steel. Maxson stared out the window for a few more seconds before turning.

In some ways, Maxson reminded Albert a little of Aradesh, back in Shady Sands, both in terms of his stature and presence as well as his lanky face. Yet Maxson was clearly at least twenty years older, in his mid sixties, mostly bald except for a ring of sparse white hair over his ears and around the back of his head, and as white and pasty as one could possibly and naturally get in terms of appearance. He was dressed in robes, similar in design to the what the scribes wore but in a glossy, violet color with golden trimmings.

'Greetings youngster,' he said, waving Albert toward the chair on the other side of his desk. Both men took their seats. 'I've been told of your exploits over at the West Tek Research Facility. I've also been told that you are aware of our little mutant problem.'

'I would hardly call it "little",' said Albert.

'Of course,' Maxson affirmed. 'I was being facetious. The Merchants from the Hub have been telling us that a bunch of their caravans have been going missing, especially on their way up north, past this here bunker.'

'I've watched the paladins training these past few days. Pretty intense. It's like you're getting ready to go to war, but no one actually seems to know the location of the enemy. Everyone I've asked has told me the training's been stepped up, but the kind of training they've been receiving isn't just wasteland patrol tactics. It's like they're preparing to raid some kind of facility but they don't know where or what it is.'

'Well, that's probably my fault. I ramped up the drills a couple of weeks ago. You want to know my theory? _I_ think there's an army in the mountains to the north west somewhere. But the other Elders… well, they don't want to act until they're sure. They agreed to my added training regiments in light of the increased sightings, but drew the line at a full-scale military operation.'

'You're _right _to be concerned about an army,' said Albert. 'I have reason to believe there may be _two_ bases. The one to the northwest is just one of them. It's conducting raids on caravans and kidnapping people to… add to the mutant ranks.'

'Yes…' Maxson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'I read the reports you gave Vree.'

'FEV was designed to create super soldiers,' said Albert. 'Whether by accident or design, these super mutants are the product, and they're using FEV to grow their ranks.'

'But do we know with certainty that the mutants _have _this FEV?'

'It's the most logical explanation for all the kidnappings! Why else would they need prisoners?'

'Slave labor?' Maxson suggested, much to Albert's chagrin. 'Look, youngster, _I_ believe your hunch.'

'It's _more _than a hunch,' Albert suggested. 'We met a ghoul over in the Hub who thinks he got transformed into what he is because he got too close to the place where the mutants were being manufactured. That was northwest. Your mutant factory's sitting there. There's no doubt about it.'

'Not to you and me, perhaps. But the other elders want to believe things are still the way they used to be. They're going to need more than the words of a newcomer.'

'Then send out scouts,' Albert suggested.

'That's a risky business,' said Maxson. 'If what you're saying is right, the further northwest we go, the more mutants we're likely to face. We'd be going in blind without knowing exactly where to look.'

'The risk of _not _finding that base in time is far worse,' Albert pointed out.

Maxson sighed. 'I'll speak with the elders about what you've told me. But we're going to need more. Even if they agree to send out scouts, it could take weeks, maybe even months before we locate the base; there's a lot of ground to cover to the northwest, after all. The best plan, in the mean time, might be to go check out that other base to the south… _If _you know where it is. Or, if you don't, find someone who does.'

Albert was in the middle of shaking his head when he stopped abruptly with the realization that he _did _know someone who might know. It hadn't ever crossed his mind, since leaving the Vault again, that the group might even have to consider revisiting the City of the Dead. The dangers had been too great and the memories of death too recent. Everyone had been only too eager to bury those memories deep down.

But now that memories of Necropolis had once again been brought to mind, Albert realized that Set was possibly the one person with enough familiarity with the super mutants to help. If he didn't know exactly where either base was located, at least he might be able to point them in the right direction.

'If I can get the location of either one of the bases, will that be enough to get the Brotherhood ready to move?' asked Albert.

'If it's the one to the northwest that's manufacturing the mutants, almost certainly yes,' said Maxson. 'The other one's out of the question, at least for now.'

'Just because we know the northwestern base is where the mutants are being created doesn't mean the other one doesn't have its own reserves of FEV. Ignoring either one of them would be a serious mistake.'

'Maybe, but there are too many variables in the that direction. Look, son. The Brotherhood is the one thing keeping the mutants from driving their way into the rest of human civilization. Think about it. Junktown. The Hub. The Boneyard. Shady Sands. A couple of the other smaller villages and communities. _We're _what's keeping them safe from any threat that might come from the west and northwest. If, as you suggest, each of those two bases is manufacturing its own army, then the Brotherhood's going to have its hands full in the coming weeks and months with the mutants to the northwest. And even if they don't end up massing at our doorstep, the last thing we want to do is show them our asses while we look to the south.'

'So you're not even going to lift a finger to help with the base to the south?'

'As far as the Brotherhood is concerned, we're going to need to eliminate the threat to the northwest _before _we think about moving our forces south. That's what the elders will say and, at least on that point, I'm inclined to agree with them. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, youngster. See what you can find. Then come back and let me know.'

'And if I find the location of the one to the south?'

'You're going to have to rally the other towns to take care of that threat, if there is indeed one. Or, hell, maybe someone at the base to the south will have the coordinates of the northwestern one.'

'I doubt people from the other towns are going to be clambering to start a war with super mutants in the south.'

'Well, you never know. If the number of super mutant numbers keep climbing, people may realize they need to take action. Try talking to Butch of the Far Go Traders over in the Hub. He might be willing to offer an ear.'

'Tried that already. Didn't help.'

'Tell him John Maxson agrees with your theory about the super mutants. That might change his tune a little. Or you might also think of trying the Followers of the Apocalypse down in the L.A. Boneyard.'

'Who are they?'

'Oh, some secular-humanist faction. They're all obsessed with preaching about the atrocities of the Great War. That as well as teaching people medical and agricultural skills, that is.'

'Sounds a little like the Children of the Cathedral, at least in spirit.'

'_Ohhh_ no, not at all like the Children,' Maxson disagreed emphatically. 'If anything, these people are the very antithesis of the Children. The Followers simply teach the scientific and logical kinds of knowledge you'd expect from a major pre-War library. They may have ideals, but they're far from religious. The Children of the Cathedral, on the other hand, are religious fundamentalists down to the core. At best, they're creepy as hell. At worst, they're a destructive cancer waiting to metastasize. That's what happens when you try to fill people's heads with fanatical nonsense about embracing some Holy Flame or whatnot?'

'There were religious fundamentalists living in the U.S. before the War who mostly kept to themselves,' Albert pointed out. '_They_ weren't the ones with their fingers on the buttons. If they could possibly have been blamed for anything, it was in actually _knowing _the end was coming and choosing to separate themselves from the politics of the world instead of doing something about it. And that's kind of a high bar to set for them, if you ask me – only makes sense in retrospect.'

Maxson smirked. 'You may be right, youngster,' he conceded. 'Maybe I _am_ just an old bigot. But that's my prerogative as a cranky, arthritic, aging, man. _I_ think the Children of the Cathedral are trouble. If you've seen some of their members over at that enormous cathedral of theirs in the Boneyard, you might agree. They're like zombies – can't think for themselves. But the Followers… they'd like to see the world rebuilt and repopulated, and they've got their heads on straight. Mostly, at least. Show them something that might get in the way of their vision, like, oh, say, replacing the human population with super mutants, and you might find yourself building some useful allies. Hell, if they're on their A-game, they may already know more about the super mutants in the south than you _or_ me.'

'Where are they located?'

'How good's your pre-War geography?'

'Decent.'

'Know where the Los Angeles Public Library is?'


	23. Chapter 22: Separation

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Separation **

While the lead Maxson had provided them was a start, the first order of business was to pay another visit to Set in the hopes that he would be more forthcoming about his information regarding the super mutants. Perhaps if he learnt that the Brotherhood of Steel might be willing to lend their weapons and expertise to the anticipated fight with the super mutants, he would have better reason to disclose the locations of one or both of the mutant bases, or at least point them in the right direction.

No one was keen to return to the City of the Dead, however. While their relations with the ghouls had ended on as positive a note as was possible the last time they were there, none of them felt any added comfort at the prospect of standing in the ghastly presence of the ghoul leader. And even though they had left the Brotherhood of Steel early in order to arrive at Necropolis before noon, the hot glare of the sun reaching the apex of its climb also gave them little consolation. If anything, they had exchanged the sense of threat and danger of the darkened night for the sickly and decaying aura the city gave off as its dead buildings absorbed the light of the sun like a black hole. Perhaps the only thing that gave them a small reprieve was the fact they were now all suited up in Brotherhood-issued combat armor and armed with automatic weapons provided by the Brotherhood of Steel, to say nothing of Alex's recently acquired monster of a plasma rifle.

Now as they traversed the lifeless roads once more on the way to the Halls of the Dead where Set's HQ was located, they began to feel something was amiss – even more than usual. As before, the city was deathly quiet save for the sporadic gust of wind that whistled through the vacant streets. The damage from the Great War still palpably lingered in the wrecked cars, pitted roads, and ruined buildings. But something more was wrong.

'Is it just me or are there a lot more bloodstains on the ground than before?' Natalia spoke, breaking the hitherto self-imposed silence of the group.

'Huh, never noticed them before,' said Alex, stopping to kneel down and exam a long dark splotch on the asphalt.

'That's because they weren't there before,' Natalia pointed out.

'Are you sure?' asked Albert. 'I mean, we _did _take a different route into the city this time round.'

'Not this road,' Natalia disagreed. 'We walked down this exact same stretch the last time we were here. See that?' She pointed to the faded sign of an old Dunkin Donuts store.

'This town probably has loads of those,' said Alex.

'Not with half a door missing, five tables, and two skeletons slouched by the entrance,' Natalia retorted.

'This blood has been spilt only recently,' Tycho observed in agreement as he crouched low, rubbed some of the blood over his gloved fingers and gave them a whiff.

'More foolish travelers wandering to their deaths,' Albert proposed.

'Not unless they were migrating here en masse,' said Natalia. 'Too much blood. Something's not right.'

'What _is_ right with this place?' Alex said rhetorically.

'Look,' she said, pointing to a large half-dried puddle of blood with long ugly streak marks leading away from the puddle around the corner of the nearest building. Something or someone had been killed rather messily in the spot and then had been dragged away without any apparent concern for neatness.

'I know what you're planning on… ah no!' Alex complained as Natalia and Tycho automatically began following the trail of drying blood. 'Can we just go see Set and then get the hell out of this place?' he said as he reluctantly took up the rear of the group.

The four of them plus Dogmeat followed the trail for several blocks. As they got closer, they made a disturbing observation. There were more trails joining the one they had started on. As they moved from block to block, it slowly began to seem like there was sometimes more blood than road. Finally, after about five minutes, they reached their destination.

Natalia had been in the lead and froze as they turned the corner of the last block. Her hand shot up, telling them to freeze in their tracks, and then her finger moved to her lips. Slowly, she took a step back so that she was no longer standing out in the open street. One by one, they took turns peeking around the corner.

Less than a hundred feet down the length of the next block, there stood the final endpoint of all the blood trails. An enormous mound of ghoul corpses had been created in the middle of the street, each body piled unceremoniously atop another. There must have been hundreds of corpses. It was a mass grave without the gravediggers actually bothering to dig any graves. Worst of all, however, were the perpetrators of the crime. Super mutants, Natalia counted six, were working together to build up the pile of bodies. The pile had grown so large that two mutants were taking turns throwing newly acquired bodies from a smaller pile onto the mass heap. Atop the hundreds of corpses in the larger pile stood another mutant whose job it was to catch the bodies being thrown upwards towards him and toss them where there was the most space.

As the group continued to watch, a new arrival emerged from further down the street and they were finally able to bear witness to exactly how the super mutants were bringing in their kills. The mutant arriving to the grisly scene was pulling behind him not two or even three ghouls, but over twenty bodies that had been strung together so they could then be dragged roughly and unceremoniously over the worn out streets of Necropolis.

'What the hell is happening here?' Tycho whispered.

'Revenge,' Albert said grimly. 'Payback for taking out the mutants at the watershed. This is on our heads.'

'Didn't Set specifically refrain from aiding us so there would be no ties between our two groups?' asked Alex.

'Maybe there was a ghoul traitor amongst his crew,' Albert offered. 'Or maybe…' He paused. 'Maybe it just doesn't matter to the Master whose fault it is.'

'But to fill an entire town with a military force of mutants…' said Tycho. 'That would require…'

'An army,' Natalia finished. 'And it looks like that army's nearly at full strength. We're running out of time.'

'Uh… guys,' Alex said uncomfortably, interrupting their conversation. The rest turned to find Alex pointing down the street the way they had come. Two more super mutants had arrived. They were still too far away and were clearly too occupied with the weight of dragging along almost two dozen bodies behind them to notice the group of humans standing between them and the heap of ghoul corpses.

'Sewer. Now,' said Natalia, pointing to a nearby manhole.

'But we're far away from Set's place,' said Albert. 'We'll get lost.'

'We won't,' Natalia replied confidently. 'I'll get us there.'

The group made it down into the sewers without alerting any of the super mutants. Down below, Natalia lit a flare and led them towards their goal. As they moved forward, ever so often they would hear snatches of conversations between the super mutants traversing the roads up above. The journey was slower and although Natalia never led them astray, she was forced to pause several times whenever they came across a new junction so as to give herself time to reconstruct her mental map of the town. Still, at least they were safe. Or at least that was what they thought until they came across the encampment of ghouls led by their old acquaintance Kane.

The chain-link fence had been torn down. The boxes and old furniture that had once filled the space were no longer present. It was now just a large room, empty if not for the fact that right in the middle lay a pile of ghoul bodies, smaller in number than the one the group had left behind on the surface, but no less grisly.

'We need to get out of here, fast,' said Natalia. They hadn't met any patrols down there in the sewers but if they did, there would be nowhere to hide.

'Wait a minute, this _can't _have been done by super mutants,' said Alex. 'None of them are small enough to fit down the manholes.'

'I'm sure there are other ways in and out,' said Albert.

'Or maybe,' Alex suggested, 'the Master's army consists of more than just super mutants.'

'What do you mean?' Natalia asked with a growing sense of foreboding.

'If the Master or the Lieutenant really does have control over a supply of FEV,' said Alex, 'it's at least theoretically possible that they could be dipping more than just humans into the stuff.'

'Doubt it,' said Natalia. 'Don't think any other animal has the brain capacity to reason and take orders from a mutant leader, even after being affected by FEV. Maybe a primate of some sort, but there can't be too many of those wandering around this side of the North American continent.'

'Well, then why haven't we heard or seen any sign of muta—'

Natalia cut him off with a hiss. 'You hear that?' she asked.

Everyone fell silent.

'All I hear is water dripping,' said Albert.

'Exactly,' Natalia replied. 'That wasn't there earlier.'

'Well, this _is _a sewer,' said Albert. 'Plenty of places where water could find its way in.' But as they continued to listen, the sound of water droplets striking water not only grew louder but more frequent and without the same static rhythm.

Natalia raised her flare higher into the air in the hopes of extending the field of light but it was not bright enough to illuminate whatever it was that was slowly approaching. 'There's more than one,' she said softly.

'One what?' Tycho said rhetorically.

Alex unslung his plasma rifle and moved to power up the device. He was stopped by Natalia's hand on his.

'We can't risk alerting the mutants,' she said.

More drips of water could be heard, even closer this time. Then there came a disgusting, fleshy, gurgling noise from off in the distance. It sounded like gastric juices churning just a little too loudly. Accompanying this new sound was the emergence of a vile sour stench that made them gag.

'This way,' said Natalia, turning and breaking into a small run.

The group picked up pace, leaving the gurgling sounds behind them. For more than just practical reasons, none of them wanted to meet the source of those noises.

They met a few more sewer junctions on the way to Set's Halls of the Dead and, on several occasions, had to make detours to avoid more of those hideous squelching sounds, but, eventually, relying solely on Natalia's amazing sense of direction, the group finally made it to the ladder that would take them up to Set's abode.

It came as little surprise when they finally returned to the Halls of the Dead only to find the place devoid of life, but it was no less disheartening. What was even more discouraging was the state of the interior. Pews had been shifted around and overturned to form makeshift barriers, now mostly peppered with burn marks and bullet holes. The plaster was crumbling from the pillars and walls. The caged alcoves along the sides of the old church still housed the Glowing Ones, but they were now all dead, their corpses still giving off their trademark radioactive luminescence even in death. But of the bodies of the regular kind of ghoul, there were none. The most heavily barricaded part of the church – the altar where Set's throne had once sat – was empty save for the dried ghoul blood splattered all over the floor and walls. There was no sign of the leader of the ghouls but it didn't take too much of an imagination to recreate the scene.

'He's dead then,' said Albert.

A sudden groan from under the rubble of fallen, overturned, bullet-ridden pews and tables making up the barricade gave them all a start. Their weapons primed, they moved closer to the source of the noise. Hiding beneath a table, buried by collapsed pieces of broken wood, lay a ghoul, his body marked with ugly burn marks. It was Garret.

Albert lifted a piece of fallen debris that was sheltering Garret's face.

'Please… don't kill me,' the old ghoul rasped.

'It's us,' said Albert, removing his combat helmet so the ghoul could recognize him. 'Don't worry. You're safe now. We're gonna get you out from under there.'

'No,' the ghoul protested weakly when they tried to move him. 'I'm safer under here than I'll be anywhere else in this dead city.'

Alex took out one of their few remaining stimpaks and gently inserted the needle into one of the ghoul's veins. The ghoul grimaced, then his eyes shot open. They were more bloodshot than usual.

'What happened here?' asked Natalia.

'The super mutants attacked,' Garret explained as he crawled out from his hiding place on his own, the adrenaline kicking into his system. 'We were slaughtered,' he wailed as they got him to sit down. He was clearly too injured to be moving around like that; the adrenaline from the stimpak was giving him too much of a kickstart. 'They had guns and bombs… even some steam trucks,' he explained as he took a seat on the floor, leaning his back against the barricade.

'Steam trucks?' said Alex.

'Some big things that moved on wheels but without any brahmin,' said Garret.

'Tanks?' Albert wondered out loud.

'They killed Set,' said Garret. 'They killed my friends. Even Kane and his ghouls down below. The mutants just… butchered us.'

'Why did they do this?' asked Natalia.

'They were pissed their men got killed.'

'But why take it out on you?' Natalia continued. 'Set made sure there was no official link between us.'

'Didn't matter to the mutants,' said Garret. 'They wanted us dead eventually anyway. They just didn't have the numbers to do it before. The death of their people at the watershed was simply the trigger.'

'Where are they?' asked Albert. 'Tell us where the mutants came from and we'll make sure they never harm any more ghouls. We'll stop them at their source.'

'You? Stop an army of super mutants?' Garret gave a laugh that turned into a painful heaving wheeze. Blood bubbled from his lips. The drugs in the stimpak were working overtime, forcing his body to try to repair the damage, but it looked like there were some wounds that were too grave for the chemical concoction to make any significant difference.

'Stay with us,' said Albert. 'Just tell us where they are. We have friends. Allies. They have the weapons and skills to fight the mutants. And we've fought these mutants before. You _know _we can do this.'

'True…' said Garret, growing rapidly weakly. 'They're… aware of you, y'know.'

'What do you mean?' asked Albert with some alarm.

'They're on the lookout for you. _Specifically _the four of you and your dog… They know who you are. How many of you. What you look like. Your names. What you've been up to. They've been watching… They have human allies watching…'

'What do they want?' asked Natalia. 'Do they want to kill us? Question us?'

Garret shook his head again. The next words he spoke chilled them to the bone. 'They want to bring you… into the fold.'

'Why?' Natalia pressed, dreading the answer.

'They see… your potential,' came the answer.

'Tell us where they are,' Albert repeated, albeit with less conviction this time.

'Northwest. The army came from the northwest.'

'Where exactly?'

'I heard them say it was a six-day march north of here.'

'Six days… six days,' Natalia thought out loud as she brought up a map of California on her PIPBoy. 'That puts it east of San Jose, south of Reno… near Yosemite National Park, maybe.'

'That's still a lot of ground to cover, but at least it's something,' said Albert. 'What about these humans who work for the mutants?' Albert asked Garret. 'Where are they. _Who _are they?'

'You've seen them here before,' said Garret. 'Children… of the Cathedral.'

It all made sense now. The Children they had met next to the watershed during their last trip to Necropolis had come under the guard of the super mutants. So when the vault dwellers had taken out that protection, the Children had been forced to leave. And what better way to spy on various populations of people than under the guise of an altruistic quasi-religious organization? The vault dwellers doubted the Children knew of them only from having spied on them when they were last here. Probably even when they visited their hospital in Hub. Maybe even when they were last in Junktown.

'They have a Cathedral in Los Angeles – the Boneyard – don't they?' asked Albert. Garret nodded weakly, his eyes closing. 'Could that be where the other mutant base lies?' Garret didn't respond. Albert reached out and took the ghoul's disfigured hand in his own. The ghoul's skin felt uneven, rough, and bony. The ghoul's eyes fluttered open and he managed a smile. That small gesture – not simply of physical contact, but of a symbolic motion of friendship between two different kinds of people – had struck a chord.

'Make… them… pay,' said Garret.

Those were Garret's last words. They waited with him until he had breathed his last – it didn't take long. Then they turned back to one another to discuss the new findings.

'So we head back to the Brotherhood?' said Alex.

'We still don't know exactly where the base is,' said Natalia. 'The Brotherhood could end up searching for it for weeks if not months. We can't just sit around while there's still another operational mutant base to the south. If the Children of the Cathedral are really in league with the mutants, then there's a good chance they might know where that other base is located. And we need to find out what they know _before _word gets around that we're prime targets.'

'If it hasn't already,' said Alex sullenly.

'In that event we would need to get it done _before _they start putting wanted pictures of us in every church operated by the Children.'

'But we can't move as a group anymore,' said Tycho. 'Not if they know who we are.'

'No, we can't,' Albert agreed. 'Tycho, the Brotherhood will need your skills,' said Albert. 'You can help them locate that base better than any of us, heck, maybe even better than any of _them_. And if you do locate that base, you may the only one who can find a weak point of entry. And Natalia should go with you—'

'No,' said Natalia resolutely but with a hint of sadness in her voice. 'Getting into that base to the north will be a military operation. Once the Brotherhood finds it, they can mobilize a full-scale attack. But the base to the south… that one requires subterfuge. We're going to have to infiltrate that cathedral of theirs to find out what they know. You'll need me there, Albert.' She turned to Tycho who nodded slowly in affirmation.

'What about me?' said Alex. 'I'm no thief—' Natalia glared at him at the inference he had made to her own past. 'And I'm no good with words neither,' he finished.

'You'll accompany Tycho back to the Brotherhood bunker,' said Albert. 'The Brotherhood will have use of your technical skills.'

'I'm sure they've got those bases covered,' said Alex. 'I've seen their knights at work.'

'You fixed a water pump without ever having _seen _a water pump before,' Albert pointed out. 'I think you might have a thing or two to show those Brotherhood knights. 'Go… tinker with that plasma rifle of yours. Find out how it works. Improve it. Help the Brotherhood create things that will help them win the coming war.'

'I don't know the first thing about the science behind it…' Alex protested. 'I'm a technician, not a physicist.'

'No one's asking you to figure out how micro fusion works,' said Albert. 'Let Vree handle that. You just focus on putting the parts together.'

'You want me to sit behind a desk while the rest of you go off risking your lives?'

'I want you contributing in the best way possible,' said Albert. 'If we're going to take on the super mutant armies of the north and south, we need to play to our strengths. Who knows, once the fighting starts up north, you may find yourself being called to arms whether you like it or not.'

'What about Dogmeat?' Natalia asked. 'He can't stay cooped up in a bunker all the time, and an all-out war with the mutants is no place for him.'

'He'll come with us,' said Albert.

With their plan set, the group settled in for the night. Making sure they were well concealed, they bunkered down and listened to a dead and silent city grow even deader and more silent with the failing light. Gone were the nocturnal cries of ravenous ghouls. Yet the absence of those hungry moans was little comfort for they knew that patrolling the streets were dozens of well-armed super mutants carrying out genocide on the population of Necropolis and anyone else that got in their way. And even deeper down in the sewers there were unnamed things creeping around in the darkness, killing any living thing they found.

The group barely slept that night and, at first light, led by Natalia and Tycho, they attempted to find their way out of the city over the rubble. Unwilling to go back down into the sewers to meet whatever it was that had made those gurgling noises, their progress was painfully slow, not only because of all the debris they had to navigate over, but also because they took extra steps to keep their movements as quiet as possible. They knew, from what Kane had told them the last time they had come, that there were small tunnels and access routes created by the ghouls to get through the rubble quickly. But none of them knew where they were, where they went, and which ones weren't likely to suffer a cave-in. As a result, the group decided to keep completely to the surface. It took them a full day to clear the rubble, especially since they often found themselves having to make large detours in order to find places in the debris that permitted access. Fortunately, the inaccessibility of the ruble meant that there were no mutant patrols, and the group was left undisturbed for the rest of the day.

The following morning, passage was much quicker, although they did have to be more cautious in order to evade the mutant patrols. By mid-morning, they made it to the outskirts of Necropolis and found themselves at the cross roads. They said their last goodbyes, not knowing when, if at all, they would meet again, but agreeing that the Brotherhood's bunker in Lost Hills would be the place for any potential rendezvous. It was the safest possible place to meet and had the most number of relatively friendly faces they were likely to ever meet in the wasteland.

With final safe wishes exchanged, in particular between Natalia and Tycho, the group split, Alex and Tycho heading north to the bunker, and Albert, Natalia, and Dogmeat traveling directly south to the LA Boneyard. This, they realized, might well be the longest period of time they would have to face in separation from one another, but there was no other way around it. The spies of the Children of the Cathedral would constantly be on the lookout for them and things would only get more dangerous the closer they got to the Children's cathedral.

To have any chance of getting close, they would need help. And the Followers of the Apocalypse seemed their best bet. With their faces turned to the south, Albert, Natalia, and Dogmeat left the mountains behind them and began their four-day journey to the coast.


	24. Chapter 23: The Boneyard

Yay, next chapter out and one closer to the end. Thanks for the ongoing reviews. It's always great to actually hear people's thoughts about the story every once in awhile. Next chapter is entitled 'Blades, Claws, and Guns'.

One additional note: in the original Fallout game, the Followers of the Apocalypse are not located within Adytum. The reason why I chose to do so is so I could, at the risk of making the story seem too game-like, have a plausible reason for most of the side quests that take place in the Boneyard.

**Chapter Twenty-Three: The Boneyard**

Nothing in the vault dwellers' travels, not even the Hub, could have prepared them for the sight of the LA Boneyard. On the sixth of April, Albert, Natalia, and Dogmeat found themselves walking through the remnants of an enormous city that seemed to stretch endlessly to the south, west, and east. Baking under the hot afternoon sun stood the skeletons of thousands of old pre-War buildings. That the wind couldn't seem to enter this dead concrete jungle only made the sweltering heat even worse.

For the better part of the day, they traversed through the remains of LA, their destination: the Los Angeles Public Library. Although they met the sporadic passerby or vagrant, their journey was mostly uneventful, and so it came as a surprise when they finally neared the library only to find their path blocked by a long double chain-link fence that stretched at least five or six blocks around where the library would be. Patrolling along the path between the two fences were armed, defiant-looking guards in metal armor.

The two companions and Dogmeat followed the perimeter of the fence as the sun began to sink into the west until, finally, they came upon the main entryway through the fence. Two guards, each with his own sentry dog, stood watch by the entrance. Albert was reminded of the first time they had entered Shady Sands. The only difference was that this place was much more heavily defended.

'State yer business,' one of the guards said none too kindly as they approached. The two sentry dogs eyed Dogmeat warily but remained silent. Dogmeat appeared unfazed.

'We'd like to enter the Los Angeles Public Library,' said Albert.

'_Those _peace-nuts, huh?' said the same guard. 'Y'know, the people of Adytum don' take too kindly to outsiders. Strangers like you bring in trouble behind these walls. Why should we let you in?'

'We won't stay long,' said Albert. 'We just want to speak with the Followers of the Apocalypse. If you could just let us through, we'll be in and out of the Library in less than a day.'

'These are dangerous times,' said the guard. 'We can't simply allow just _anybody _in.'

'Who's "we"?' Natalia asked.

'Us Regulators, 'course,' the man replied. 'It's our job to keep the peace an' protect the town. We're the police force for Adytum.'

'Well then you've got nothing to worry about, least not the two of us,' Albert said. 'Or our dog.'

'You never know,' the man replied. 'Most folks 'round here know enough not to cause any trouble, but you outsiders with your fancy armor an' all…'

'What would it take to allow us in?' Albert sighed, realizing where this was going.

'Well,' said the Regulator as he delivered his scripted response, 'it just so happens our town's in need of some guns for hire. If you have those skills, our mayor might've some use for you. An' if you prove yourself, maybe Zimmerman'll be more than happy to give you free reign of the town… _An' _the Library.'

'Alright, I get the picture,' said Albert. 'In that case, why don't you show us to your mayor? Perhaps we can be of assistance to each other.'

Neither Albert nor Natalia were surprised at this turn of events. Ever since leaving the Vault, people had always been out to use them towards their own purposes and goals. Many of these people were well-meaning, relatively good people simply out to make it in this harsh wasteland, like Aradesh in Shady Sands or Killian in Junktown. If exploiting someone else meant one's survival, it wasn't too difficult a choice to make. The same thing was happening here and, short of blasting their way to the Library, it didn't seem like Albert and Natalia had much of a choice.

'So what's this help that the mayor needs of us?' asked Albert as they walked.

'Pro'ly a few things,' the Regulator replied, 'but I'm guessin' the biggest one's about the Blades. They're a local gang in the north.'

'What's happening with the Blades?' Albert asked.

'Ah, they did somethin' or other to Zimmerman's half-witted son. Zimmerman can tell you more about it. Or maybe Caleb.'

'Caleb?' asked Natalia out loud.

'He's the head of our security force,' the Regulator explained. 'He's in charge of trainin' the Regulators an' makin' sure them skags are working hard enough, an' no one moves in on us here.'

The Regulator led them two blocks to the south to a large former government building that had now been repurposed as the town hall. Inside, they were led into the office of a heavily balding man in his mid to late forties. When they were ushered into the office, they found him in deep conversation with another man in his mid-thirties, dressed in combat armor that was similar to their own except that it had likely been scavenged from the wasteland instead of requisitioned from the Brotherhood of Steel. The man looked up at their entrance and visually appraised them from head to foot with a stern glance.

Albert could tell that this man was going to be trouble. He had the air of self-importance about him – an air that had just been deflated by Albert and Natalia's entrance. Until their appearance, his combat armor had likely been what had stood him apart from all the other citizens of Adytum as well as the other Regulators in their metal armor. It had been a sign of prestige and status… until now.

He frowned at them and crossed his arms.

'What's the meaning of this intrusion?' he asked the Regulator who had brought them in.

'These folks want to go the Library,' the Regulator explained. 'Said they be willin' to help out in exchange.'

'They did, did they?' said the man in combat armor. 'I'm Caleb,' he introduced himself to the two newcomers with his arms still crossed. 'I train and organize the Regulators here. This here's Jon Zimmerman, mayor of Adytum.' He indicated the older, shorter, balding man. 'We got ourselves two jobs that need doing.'

'Have you dealt with a vicious murdering band of thieves and cutthroats before?' said the balding man.

Natalia couldn't help rolling her eyes. 'Is there any place in the wasteland that _doesn't _have a gang problem?' she muttered.

'Uh… so you've… dealt with gangs before?' Zimmerman asked.

'We've dealt with a few,' said Albert, surprised at how truthful that statement actually was. He hadn't thought about it before but Natalia was right. Shady Sands and the Khans. Junktown and Gizmo. The Hub and Decker. And they – the vault dwellers – had been instrumental in taking all of these gangs down. Albert couldn't help but feel somewhat accomplished at the thought.

'Good,' said Zimmerman, 'then you know how ruthless and bloodthirsty they can be. Now, the Blades are the worst of them all, I'm afraid. We're a humble, god-fearing town that is only trying to survive, and these… these…' he paused as he grew increasingly and surprisingly emotionally distraught, as if just talking about them had brought up some painful, bitter memory. He took a long breath before speaking again.

'These… monsters… prey on us.' Then he added, whispering under his breath, 'and our children…'

'Well, we certainly understand how that might feel,' said Albert, 'but with all respect, why us? You've got an impressive police force. Why not get _them _to do something about these Blades?' Caleb glowered at Albert.

'Well, the Regulators keep them from attacking us outright,' said Zimmerman, 'but it's all they can do to keep our little community safe. We can't really spare any of them by sending them out there into the rest of the city. Their hands are already full. These Blades try to sneak in at night to kill our citizens, or to kidnap our children… and…' He stopped a moment to compose himself again before continuing. 'Just last week one of them burst through the north gate in the middle of the night with dynamite strapped to his body to blow up the Regulators' barracks… no doubt to weaken us enough so that they could launch a full scale attack.'

'What happened?' asked Natalia.

'Luckily, the Regulators killed him before he could complete his plan,' Zimmerman replied. 'I saw his body myself.'

'You saw him run into your town with dynamite strapped to his body?' Natalia asked sarcastically.

'It was the middle of the night, as I told you,' said Zimmerman irritably. 'I was asleep. Luckily, the Regulators usually catch these barbarians before they even make it inside our town.'

'Yeah, that's pretty lucky,' said Natalia, casting a quick sidelong glance at Caleb. Albert directed a quick glance of his own back at Natalia, his brow furrowed in thought. She knew something or at least thought she did. He couldn't figure out why else she would behave so strangely all of a sudden. Making a note to ask her about it once they were alone, he turned to Zimmerman.

'So you want us to take out the Blades?' he said.

'We want you to put an end to their foulness once and for all!' Zimmerman said, righteous anger brimming with excitement at the thought of having the Blades taken down. 'You do this – you kill their leader – and I'll give you free passage to the Library. That and two thousand caps.'

Natalia's eyes widened in surprise at the additional offer. The mayor apparently really had it in for these Blades.

'Just their leader?' asked Albert.

'They'll fall apart without her… her… _vile _influence.' Zimmerman practically spat the word. 'I want that bitch's head.'

'You seem to have something personal against her,' Albert observed.

'She…' Zimmerman took another long breath. 'She had my son kidnapped, tortured, and killed. His voice dropped to a low drone as he relived the image of his dead son. 'They left him impaled on a post right outside the gates,' he finished

Albert shared a glance with Natalia. Natalia nodded her head at him. This was like the Khans all over again. The same kind of sadistic cruelty.

'Alright,' Albert told Zimmerman. 'We'll take the job.'

Zimmerman breathed an audible sigh of relief. 'Thank the gods,' he said. 'Finally, my son shall be avenged.' He turned to look Albert in the eye and Albert could see the hate filling the man's eyes. 'The Blades camp is to the north of here in some pre-War nightclub,' said Zimmerman. 'Caleb can tell you exactly where.'

Having said his piece, Zimmerman had Caleb usher them out of the office. On the way out, Caleb took them aside, out of earshot of Zimmerman.

'I did say there were two jobs that need doing,' he said. 'Zimmerman may be fine with you walking free in Adytum once that gang problem's out of the way, but I'm not. You want in, there's one other thing you need to do.'

Caleb led them further into the town until they reached the garage of a former gas station. The inside had been repurposed to function as some kind of chemistry lab complete with beakers, test tubes, and glass bottles full of various chemicals. Caleb led them over to the only occupant of the lab – a thin man wearing a white smock.

'This is Miles,' said Caleb. He turned to the thin man. 'Tell them what you do, Miles.'

'I'm a chemist,' said Miles. 'I dabble with all sorts of things, really, but mostly, I make primer and powder so that we can reuse the brass casings from bullets. Usually, we get the sulfur, potassium nitrate, and—'

'Without the scientific jargon, please,' Caleb interrupted him.

'Well, some of the materials we get from Hub merchants,' said Miles. 'Others I manufacture or just find in the area. For instance, the dung heaps from the Brahmin are a good source, as well as some of the strains of fungus that I cultivate.'

Miles showed them into the adjoining room and down a staircase into a large, cool, and damp room where the pungent smell of cow feces assaulted their nostrils. The room had been emptied of everything except for the dozens of table planters that had been filled with dung and mushrooms of various sizes growing in it.

'Now, the problem,' Caleb said once they were back in the lab, 'is that those planters only gets us so much of the raw material we need. As a result, the Hub merchants make a huge profit off of the town. First, they sell us some of the materials we need to refill the brass casings, then our local blacksmith casts the bullets and we trade the bullets to the Hub merchants in exchange for food. So they have the upper hand in that production chain. Didn't use to be that way, though. Coupla years ago, we had hydroponic farms – enough to make Adytum almost fully self-reliant as far as food went. Then the parts broke down. We've been looking for replacements ever since.'

'Sammael and the other scavs have been searching for years in the runs they make into the ruins,' Miles added. 'They've accumulated most of what we need over the years. There's just one crucial mechanism missing that we need in order to synchronize the pumps for the hydroponics systems. But scavs have already been to all the places we'd expect to find such a part.'

'Scavs?' said Natalia.

'Scavengers,' said Caleb. 'All six of them. The Boneyard's a big place. Even now, there's still plenty of useful equipment and information out there in the ruins just waiting for someone with the guts and skills to head out there and bring it back in.'

'Why only six?' asked Albert.

'I'll let Sammael answer that,' said Caleb.

He led them out of the lab and further south till they reached a wide open space where some of the people of Adytum were tending small fields of mutated crops. Here, the density of buildings dwindled and that of tents increased. Caleb brought them to the biggest tent. Inside they found it virtually empty except for an old white mattress on the ground. A grungy looking man in dark blue clothes sat on the mattress talking to an older man adorned with bright scarves and little trinkets.

'I'll leave you to it,' Caleb said to the two vault dwellers. 'I'll be back once you've learnt all you need to know about the missing part.'

'What makes you think we'll be able to find it when they haven't?' asked Natalia.

'Because you're going to be searching in the places they can't.'

'Because…' Natalia said expectantly.

'Because you have firepower.' Caleb left them in the tent, facing the two men.

'So, Caleb wants you to go searching for relics of the past,' said the grungy-looking man.

'Sure looks like it,' said Albert.

'You won't be the first outsider he's sent on this task,' the man explained. 'I'm Sammael.' He extended his hand, first to Natalia, then to Albert. 'And this here is Chuck.' Albert and Natalia looked down and realized that in Chuck's hands were a number of large tarot cards. 'Chuck here's a farmer,' said Sammael, 'but he also does a little bit of work on the buildings, restoring them and keeping intact. Sometimes he gives advice. In fact, he was just giving me a reading.'

'I… see.' Natalia was doubtful.

'It works for me,' Sammael said in defense, without raising his voice or seeming the slightest bit perturbed by her apparent skepticism. 'If you choose not to believe in it, then it's not for you,' he said simply.

'So. You're in charge of the scavs,' said Albert, changing the topic.

Sammael nodded. 'Dangerous work.'

'Why so?'

'Well, for one, you have the Regulators back here in Adytum.'

Albert frowned. 'What do you mean?'

Sammael took a step outside the tent to make sure the coast was clear. Then he came back in and leaned in conspiratorially. 'They're not called the "Regulators" for nothing,' he said. 'We scavs have a quota to fulfill each week. We don't meet those targets and… well, let's just say the Regulators ain't the most forgiving types.'

'They evict you?' asked Natalia. Sammael nodded. 'Why is that so big of a problem? There are plenty of places that would take you in without imposing as much regulation on you. Or, if not that, then this LA Boneyard must have tons of places to loot and-or make a home for yourself.'

'Which leads me to the second source of the danger,' said Sammael. His next word stopped them cold. 'Deathclaws.'

Natalia immediately froze inside. Memories of the fight in the deathclaw cave came flashing back. She saw Stone, lying on the cave floor, his innards spilling out onto the cold rock. She felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder and turned to see Albert standing beside her, a look of concern on his face. She gave him a smile to reassure him that it was okay but her discomfort was evident.

'In order to be sure of making it safely out of the Boneyard,' Sammael continued, 'you either need to be heavily armed, like you guys or the merchants from the Crimson Caravan who occasionally come through, _or_ just extremely lucky. It looks like you may have had a bit of both if you didn't meet any deathclaws on the way in.'

'How do _you _avoid the deathclaws?' Albert asked

'Wait… there's more than one?' Natalia asked weakly.

'We only work at night, and we're good at what we do,' said Sammael, addressing Albert's question. 'But even we can't evade them forever. Sooner or later they pick up our scent. We just have to hightail it back here before that happens.'

'Deathclaws aren't nocturnal?' Natalia asked, feeling sick at the sudden realization that the deathclaw that she, Ian, and Stone had fought had probably been wide awake when they had stumbled upon it in the cave. Another stupid and poor decision on her part.

'Well, they _can _move around at night as well,' said Sammael. 'There's really no guarantee with them.'

'You've survived this long,' Albert noted.

'Not everyone always comes back. In fact, I sent a guy out just last week to look for some part for Miles—'

'The missing part for the hydroponics farms,' Albert said.

Sammael nodded. 'More accurately, it's the chipset inside of it that will allow us to synchronize the pumps used in the hydroponic farms. Motors and gears, Smitty our blacksmith can make from scraps. But we need the inbuilt program that the chip has in order for all those parts to work together. The problem is we haven't heard back from Bill. The last transmission I got from him was that he'd found it and was on his way back.'

'So Caleb wants us to search for your missing scav,' Albert said, surmising Caleb's intent.

'Actually, he has no idea we located the chip yet,' said Sammael. 'None of us want to tell him, 'cause then he would send all our asses out beyond the fences and _keep _us out until we either find the part or are all being digested in deathclaw stomachs… As you can probably tell, we scavs aren't too fond of the Regulators. If not for the fact they pretty much run the town, we probably would've avoided them as much as possible.'

'So, as far as he knows, Caleb's just sending out on a wild goose chase?' asked Natalia.

'It's like the Brotherhood all over again,' said Albert, answering her question. 'He assigned us a task he thought was highly improbable to succeed.'

'Jokes on him then, since we actually know where the part is,' said Sammael. 'Caleb may not be a very nice person, but if you dance to his tune, he'll live up to his end. So, I can't help you with the Blades problem, but if you do manage to locate the hydroponic parts, that's half the job done already.'

'How did you know we talked about that?' Albert wondered.

'That's what they're good at,' Natalia explained for Albert's benefit.

'So why haven't _you _gone out to retrieve the parts?' Albert asked Sammael.

Sammael was silent for a moment. 'It was getting close to dawn when we got his transmission. Bill wanted to get back as soon as possible before the deathclaws started waking up. But the fastest route was past the old cinema. We scavs aren't well armed enough to brave that place.'

'What's there?' asked Natalia.

'That's where we've seen the highest concentration of deathclaws. If we're sloppy in our runs, we sometimes see one deathclaw. Occasionally, one of the scavs has the misfortune of seeing two. That scav usually doesn't make it back. At the old cinema, in the past we've had reports of three. Those scavs _never _make it back and we've stopped sending people that way… _Another _reason for not telling Caleb we found the parts.'

Just then, distant klaxons rang out. Then a number of loudspeakers, mounted on several of the buildings in Adytum, crackled to life. Albert and Natalia heard Caleb's voice shortly after.

'There is an attempted raid being conducted by the Blades,' said Caleb over the loudspeakers all over town. 'Return to your homes, lock your doors if you have them, and stay off the streets until you hear the all-clear.'

'Agh, not again,' Sammael complained irritably. 'We could be stuck indoors for hours.'

'What happens if we break curfew?' asked Natalia.

'Nothing if the Regulators don't see you or the Blades don't kill you,' said Sammael.

'And if the Regulators _do _see you?'

'Then you unceremoniously lose the right to stay in Adytum.'

'I guess it looks like we'll be here a little longer than expected,' Albert sighed.

'There's always cards,' Natalia suggested playfully.

'Do you _seek _guidance?' Chuck asked earnestly.

'I guess I could always do with some guidance,' Albert said. 'And it certainly looks like we have the time to spare. Natalia?'

'I'll pass, thanks,' she said.

'_You're_ the skeptic,' said Albert. 'There's only one way to confirm your skepticism.'

Natalia groaned.

'Let me offer you a reading,' said Chuck. 'At worse, it will be an amusing way to pass the time for you.'

Natalia seemed hesitant at first but was eventually won over by Chuck's good nature. While she didn't believe in fortune telling, his lack of pretentiousness or snobbery was welcoming. She allowed Albert to pull her by the arm to where Chuck was sitting.

'Let me consult the cards,' said Chuck. He shuffled the Tarot cards and then set the top one, slowly turning it over to its face. It was a picture of a man carrying in one hand some kind of futuristic looking knife with serrated edges. In the other he held a flag.

'Hey, I know that,' said Natalia pointing at the knife. 'I saw those in the Brotherhood armory. That's a Ripper vibro-blade. It's connected to an energy cell-powered motor that spins the chain-blade at eighty miles per hour. Wicked stuff.'

'Natalia. You're spoiling the mood,' Albert berated. 'Sorry,' he said to Chuck. 'What does the card mean?'

'It's the Prince of Swords in the north… You must face a powerful foe far to the north.'

'I should certainly hope not,' said Albert. 'If there _is_ a powerful foe far to the north, I would hope the Brotherhood does its job and takes care of him for us.'

'This is just what the cards say,' said Chuck.

'I don't supposed the card says if I'll _beat _that powerful foe far to the north, does it?' asked Natalia.

'That would make it too easy,' Chuck chuckled.

'Wait, _you _don't believe the cards either?' Natalia asked incredulously.

'I do,' Chuck retorted. 'I'm just being realistic. The meaning of the cards is indisputable, but it can often occur in ways you least expect it.'

'Huh, convenient,' Natalia scoffed, though it was clear she was enjoying the display.

'Ignore her,' said Albert. 'What's next?'

Chuck pulled out the next card. It had a picture of a radio tower on it. Leaving the card face up on the mattress, he took the next card and placed it face up beside the first. The second card bore the picture of a man in a suit with a scepter.

'The Tower and the Emperor,' Chuck declared. 'A great change awaits by the hands of a powerful leader. Whether that change is death, I cannot tell.'

'Wait, why does "death" always have to be one of the most plausible definitions?' Natalia protested. 'Maybe it means the powerful leader just grows taller. Or maybe he gets a sex change. Or… what does any of that have to do with me?'

'It could mean that you will become the powerful leader, or it could mean that you will bear witness to the actions of that powerful leader,' said Chuck. 'Either way, it will impact your life greatly.'

'That was a bit anticlimactic,' Natalia commented. 'You go, Albert.'

Albert took her place. Chuck shuffled the cards again and drew the top one. It was a picture of a man dancing on a nuclear warhead.

'Oh, neat!' Natalia commented. 'These Tarot cards were made during the time of the Great War. How apropos! What does this one mean?'

'The Fool,' Chuck replied. Natalia gave an involuntary snort of laughter. 'I cannot help you,' said Chuck. 'You must make your own way in the world.'

'I guess that means you get to write your own story; play your own game of life,' said Natalia. 'I know, we'll call it "Fallout: Annals of the Vault Dweller".'

'What do you mean "the Vault Dweller"?' Albert retorted. 'There's at least three of us.'

'_Ohhh_ no,' Natalia objected. 'If you ever write that story, you can leave me out of it. I don't need people chasing after me for advice or leadership. _You _can have that honor all to yourself, Albert.'

'Well, all that only applies if we do what we set out to do,' Albert said, considering his words carefully in light of their current audience. 'If we fail, we may not get to call ourselves vault dwellers for much longer.'

'Then we'll be wanderers,' Natalia said simply. 'Then it'll be: "Annals of the Wanderer."'

'Sounds catchy,' Chuck commented.

'Speaking of wandering,' said Albert to Sammael. 'Did you grow up "scavving" in Adytum, or were you from somewhere else?'

'Chuck's from around here,' Sammael replied. 'I was born northeast of here. We would've stayed there if it didn't eventually get taken over by a gun running gang back when I was still a kid.'

'The Blades?' Albert asked.

Sammael shook his head. 'They call themselves the Gun Runners. They moved into a big factory up to the northeast about thirty years ago. Back in the day, they were pretty cutthroat. Enough to cause families that had been living there to seek shelter here in Adytum. I hear the Gun Runners have mellowed since then – more interested in keeping their business alive than robbing people. But like you said, I did my share of wandering. My family realized what they were getting into when they came here – security in exchange for freedom. But I wouldn't have any of it. When I heard of that Cathedral that got built to the south, I headed over there, hoping to start a new life.'

The klaxons sounded again, followed by Caleb's voice announcing that it was safe to be out on the streets again.

'That was quick,' said Natalia.

'Must have been a false alarm,' Sammael noted. 'Which also means that Caleb will probably be around shortly to usher you out of town as soon as possible. I hope you find that part for both our sakes.'

'How will we identify it?' asked Albert.

'You'll have to find the body. And then you'll describe it to us and we'll tell you if it's the part we're looking for. Take this.' Sammael reached around his belt and pulled out a familiar looking handheld radio communicator.

'We _have _one of those, actually,' said Albert, rifling through his pack for the radio set. 'We've been carrying it around for months. Never thought we'd actually find an opportunity to use it.'

Natalia couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at the sight of the handset in Albert's hands. It was the same one Ian had taken off the corpse of the super mutant they had found in the deathclaw cave – the same one where Stone had met his end.

Sammael gave Albert a brief lesson in operating the radio and provided him with the frequency the scavs normally used.

'It's a short range communicator but it'll get you at least as far as the cinema,' Sammael explained. You'll have to pass the Blades' encampment first. So, once you get there, we can then provide you with more detailed directions to get to the cinema.'

'I'm assuming the Regulators are going to be listening in on whatever we say,' said Albert.

'I doubt it. If they had been scanning the frequency we used, they would have known that Bill had found the part. But in any case, I would be discreet with what you say on comms. _Or_… just make sure you get that chip back so they won't have to send _us _out on that run.'

'We'll get it back,' Albert assured him. 'But when we do, I want to hear everything you know about these Children and their cathedral in the south.'


	25. Chapter 24: Blades, Claws, and Guns

w00t! Next chapter!So, yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get this finished by the end of summer. Still, we're getting close. Thanks again for the ongoing reviews. As slow as my writing is sometimes, it's still a lot faster than it would have been without constructive feedback.

2 housekeeping things:  
>1) my youtube page is becoming prominent enough (no, not that prominent), that I have decided to merge my youtube and fanfiction identities. So from here on, I will be changing my fanfiction nickname from reebokke (which was something I chose 17 years ago) to my youtube nickname 'deathhamsters' which is soooo much more awesome, methinks. So, if you choose to search for me by my pen name on the fanfiction website, you may call me: dah duh dah! DEATHHAMSTERS!<p>

2) With this story gradually coming to its end, I have started to consider what I should write next. Check out the poll on my fanfiction profile page and take your pick if it suits your fancy (please note, for those who have seen it before, that I am tentatively including another possible option: vampire: bloodlines). I was initially reluctant to write a Fallout 2 novelization just because I know there's an excellent full-length one that's already in existence. PLUS, I know one or more of you faithful readers may decide to take a stab at it yourselves. So, I was actually thinking of going to back to another RPG favorite of mine (see the poll), but if consensus leans the other way, I will consider giving the same treatment that I give here to Fallout 2.

Nuff said. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Blades, Claws, and Guns **

For the first hour, they walked in silence in the dark. Albert knew Natalia was grappling with the recently brought up memory of the deathclaw cave. If she needed to, he was sure she would talk to him about it. But she had come a long way since Stone's death and Albert suspected all she needed was a bit of time to herself. She was, after all, the most resilient person he had ever met.

In the meantime, Albert found himself marveling at how easy it had been to agree to the Regulators' demands. He and Natalia had essentially agreed to assassinate someone who was protected by a gang of cutthroat marauders. This time, they hadn't even needed an emotional impetus to agree to the task (at least _he _hadn't), unlike with the Khans. Worse still, Albert didn't even know how they were going to kill one person and then make it back to Adytum alive, yet the task barely worried him. He knew that between himself and Natalia, they could get the job done. A very small part of him remained alarmed at just how easily he had slipped back into this cold, rational frame of mind. But it was just a small part. After all, wasn't that what he had signed up for the last time he had left the Vault on this mission?

Eventually when Natalia did speak, it was about the Blades and the Regulators.

'You don't think they're being on the level with us,' he observed.

'Something's not right about it,' she said. 'If the Blades are really such a terrible and dangerous gang, why resort to suicide bombing? Suicidal terrorism is a weapon of the weak – those who don't know of a more plausible alternative to getting what they want. You'd have to be pretty darn desperate _and_ idealistic to resort to ending your life that way. It's one thing to go into a situation knowing you might die. It's a whole other thing to know that you _will _die.'

'Maybe he was suicidal to begin with,' Albert suggested.

'_May_be,' Natalia said doubtfully. 'Something just doesn't sit right with me on this. I don't trust them, Albert. Zimmerman _or _his lackeys.'

'And why didn't you mention it _before_ I signed us up to take on a gang?'

'The last thing I would have wanted was for any of them to overhear my suspicions.'

'And speaking of your suspicions, what makes you so sure they're not trustworthy?'

'I spoke to Sammael again before we left,' she said. 'Those Regulators don't just handle security. They take a percentage off the top of whatever the scavs bring in. In addition to that, they also charge each resident of Adytum protection money… or protection caps, or whatever it is they call it these days… They're thugs, Albert, and they've got something to gain here.'

'So you think Zimmerman's in on this extortion?'

'Can't see why not. He's the mayor isn't he? It's pretty clear he wants the Blades leader dead, and in a rather gruesome manner too, if you recall.'

'You think all those histrionics were just for show to get us to take the job?'

'I don't know what I think. But I suspect Zimmerman and his Regulators are playing up the threat of the Blades: to us, to the people of Adytum… anything to justify their extortion racket.'

'You may be right, Natalia, but even if that's true… what are we going to do about it? We kill a gang leader and we get access to the Library. The only other alternative seems to be to take the Regulators head on. And honestly, while taking on a gang with just the three of us…' he paused to ruffle the fur on Dogmeat's head. 'While that sounds like the craziest thing we may have tried yet, going up against well-armed guards behind a double chain-link fence is even crazier.'

'What do _you _propose then?'

'I want to be sure that we're not making matters worse by interfering. Let's say you're right and Zimmerman and the Regulators _are_ feeding the people of Adytum lies or at least exaggerations so they can continue running their protection racket. Yes, they're corrupt and they're living it large while everyone else has to scrounge around to make a living, but in the end they _are _keeping the people safe, aren't they? They _are _fulfilling a need, _especially _with gangs and deathclaws out there.'

'Albert, where's this… coming from?' Natalia fixed him with a quizzical stare.

'Sometimes doing the right thing means being a very bad person,' he recited from memory. They had been Ian's words. They had been Tycho's words. Now they had become his words. He truly _had _become a resident of the wasteland. Doc Morbid could have his human meat trade with Iguana Bob and the Regulators could have their little racket.

Albert sighed. 'Never mind taking on the Regulators; I don't even know how we're going to take down _one _person in the middle of all her gang members. I don't even know what I was thinking except that there didn't seem to be any other option.' He groaned. 'I used to be good at this kind of thing. What happened to me? Can't even negotiate a simple deal!'

Natalia held Albert's hand. 'You've changed. We all have. We've gone through so much and come so far since we first set foot outside the Vault.'

'But did we go in the right direction?'

Natalia squeezed his hand. 'We went in the only way that was possible. It's all for the sake of our Vault.'

Albert squeezed her hand back and smiled before releasing his grip. 'Thanks. Now we just have to figure out how to get into the Blades encampment without getting blown to smithereens.'

'That may not be as difficult as we thought.' Natalia stopped walking.

Albert followed suit. 'Why so?'

'Because it appears we've reached the front door of their camp without crossing so much as a single patrol.'

Albert looked up at their surroundings and realized that she was right. They were already at the nightclub. An old sign for "Blades"-brand razor blades that hung from the outer walls of the nightclub gave a clear indication as to how the gang had gotten its name. As with all the other buildings, the nightclub had suffered significant damage, yet evidence of partial rebuilding was clear. By the looks of it, the repairs must have gone on over a long period of time already. A tiny outpost made of wood had been constructed next to the entrance. A strong, stout looking man with a bushy beard stood inside it, gazing out into the darkness of the night.

'Notice anything?' Natalia asked Albert.

'Only one guard?' Albert offered.

'Keep watching him. I'll scout the perimeter and be back in ten.'

'Wait, take this.' Albert took off the motion sensor that he had attached to his PIPBoy back when he and Alex were still in the Glow. He showed her how to operate it and then watched as she skulked off silently into the gloom.

In less than ten minutes she was back.

'Nothing,' she told him. 'Either they're exceptionally good at deception, or they're the worst gang I've ever seen. Something's really not right about this.'

'So the Regulators _are_ probably scapegoating the Blades.'

'Certainly looks that way.'

'That just makes our job easier, then.'

'You still want to go through with this?'

'The Regulators may be bad guys, but if these Blades people _did _kill Zimmerman's son, then they're no better. I have no qualms with killing a murderer.'

Natalia stared at him for longer than a casual moment. 'That's still a big "if".'

'Only one way to find out for sure, I guess.'

Natalia quickened her pace to catch up with Albert's purposeful stride. 'This Brotherhood armor better be as good as they say it is,' she muttered as they walked towards the lone sentry.

The man waited patiently for them to approach. 'Well, ye don' look like those bloody Regulatorrs now do ye?' he said with a prominent Scottish accent.

'We're from out of town,' said Albert. 'Zimmerman wanted us to give your leader a message.'

'Ah, ye be wantin' to talk to Razor, then. A good lass if there ever was one. I'll have to take those rifles 'fore I let ye in, though.'

'Fine,' said Albert. They still had their plasma pistols. The guard didn't seem like he was planning on disarming them completely. He simply didn't want them to walk into a crowd of people with loaded automatic weapons.

'I hope Zimmerman's finally seen some sense,' the man commented as he led them into the old nightclub. They passed through the largest part of the dance floor where dozens of people were scattered all around, sitting or standing wherever there was space. Their various conversations ceased and all their eyes fell onto the two newcomers. Dressed as they were in their green combat armor, they definitely stood out.

'What do you mean?' Albert asked to break the silence. 'About Zimmerman?'

'That Regulatorr bunch… a real gang of nasties is what they are. This group 'ere needs better 'an what's been handed 'em and Zimmerman's been blind to their plight.'

'What do you mean?' Albert asked.

'Are ye serious?' The man looked genuinely surprised. 'I was thinkin' the deathclaws were the spawn of an unnatural act, but 'em Regulatorrs are pure evil. Come once a month or so and they show their ugly faces and drag a father away from 'is wee ones.'

'Why would they do that?' asked Natalia.

'That's what bastarrds do.'

They crossed the dance floor and turned into a back corridor that ended at an office. Inside, they found themselves in a room with over a dozen people. It seemed like this nightclub of the Blades was somewhat lacking in space. A quick cursory look showed that most of these people weren't armed, at least not with guns. Still, it would be hard to take out the leader without then getting mobbed by everyone else.

Albert and Natalia focused their attention on the woman standing at the office desk. She was dressed in a black blouse and jeans, although they suspected it was more due to a limited wardrobe than a fashion statement. Upon their entrance, she glanced up from the half dozen maps strewn across her desk. As their escort informed her of their purpose, they couldn't help but be struck by her incredible beauty. Perhaps the only thing that marred her looks was the immense sadness they saw behind her eyes.

Albert had seen that look before, back in the Vault. It was the look of someone who had once thought she had everything only to have it ripped from her in an instant. He had witnessed it in the eyes of a vault dweller who had come to him for marriage counseling but, shortly after the marriage, had seen it fall to pieces when her newly wedded husband suffered a stroke and passed away. This woman who now stood before them had not yet come to terms with whatever loss she had experienced. Albert glanced down at the maps and realized they were maps of Adytum. He recognized the outline of the fence, the location of some of the tents, the mayor's building, and the Regulators' barracks near the entrance of the town.

'Are you the leader of this gang?' Albert asked. 'The one they call Razor?'

'Gang?' She sounded as if the word were foreign to her. 'We're hardly a gang. But I _am _the one they all come to for direction. Did you come here to kill us?'

'If that's what you think, why did you let us in?'

'Because we've reached the point where we have less guns and ammunition than people. To be frank, if your intention is to cause trouble, I'll make damn sure your weapons change hands by the end of it.'

_Natalia was right_, Albert found himself thinking. This "gang", if that was what it was, was nothing like the Khans. They were weak, beaten, and desperate. Zimmerman and the Regulators had most definitely exaggerated when they had spoken of the threat the Blades posed. That only left one little question unanswered. Albert decided to cut to the chase.

'Did you kill Zimmerman's son?'

The look she gave him said it all. Her voice was quiet but filled with smoldering vehemence when she spoke. Her eyes darkened. 'What?' Albert could quickly see the anger bubbling up within her, much like it had with Zimmerman. 'Is that what the Regulators are saying about us now?' Razor turned away, not sure how to process this new information. 'Everyone else, leave now! Please.' Her voice was soft but urgent. No one argued as they shuffled out the doorway, leaving the two vault dwellers, Dogmeat, and Razor to themselves.

At first Razor merely stood still, her eyes cast on the ground, arms crossed, teeth biting onto her lower lip as her mind raced. But it soon became evident that her breathing was also growing more rapid. Her eyes darted around, unfocused, as she struggled to process what she had just heard. Albert suspected she was on the verge of some kind of panic attack.

She swooned once and Albert and Natalia raced to her side, catching her before she could collapse.

'Are you alright?' Natalia asked.

'Those… Those fucking cocksuckers!' Razor blurted, surprising Albert and Natalia by the sudden outburst. Razor struggled free from their grasp, then started pacing around the floor, her fists clenching and unclenching, as if she wasn't quite sure what to do with her body. She found her way back to the maps on her desk. 'I'll kill them!' she growled. 'I'll send them all to hell!'

'We're here,' Albert reassured her, forcing her to look up at him. 'We're here to set things right. Just take a deep breath and tell us what's wrong.'

Slowly, her eyes came to focus on his. She took a deliberate deep breath and reached for a canteen of water on her desk. She downed a few mouthfuls, then took a few more breaths. She looked like she was about to apologize but Albert stopped her, leading her over to her desk chair instead. She took a seat.

'The Regulators,' she said, and for the longest moment, that was all that came from her lips. Albert and Natalia waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts and put them into words. 'They were the ones that killed Josh,' she continued.

'The Regulators?' Natalia expressed her surprise.

'I would never do anything to hurt Josh!' Razor nearly shouted her innocence.

'Why would Zimmerman have his own son killed!' Natalia couldn't believe her ears.

'It's the Regulators who are running Adytum. _Not _Zimmmerman!'

'Why?' asked Albert.

'Josh lived here with me—' Razor stopped abruptly. 'a… I… I mean us.' She frowned at her own slip. To Albert and Natalia, her inadvertent admission was a full explanation for her earlier outburst to news of the Regulators' accusations. 'He knew the truth behind what was going on,' she said. 'The Regulators told him if he ever tried to contact his father or return to Adytum they would kill him.' Albert and Natalia traded uncomfortable glances at this new revelation. 'They laughed at him… they were so sure he couldn't get to his father…'

'He tried to get back into Adytum?' asked Natalia.

'Late one night he tried to sneak into town to tell his father what was really going on. I was monitoring the Regulators radio transmissions the night they… he got… caught.' She looked down and shook her head slowly. She reached for her desk drawer and pulled it open, producing from inside a holodisk that she passed to Albert. 'It's all there.'

She inserted the disk into a small compact holodisk player with speakers and hit the replay button.

**Voice 1: Regulator Patrol to Regulator Base. Do you copy? Over.**

**Voice 2: This is Regulator Base, Principle Regulator Caleb responding. Report. Over.**

**Voice 1: Regulator Second Class Cravotta reporting, sir. We've apprehended the Zimmerman boy trying to infiltrate our perimeter again. Orders? Over.**

**Voice 2: Shit! Again! Well that's the last time that's going to happen. Eliminate him and make it look like the Blades did it. Understand? Over.**

**Voice 1:… Sir? Uh… Did I copy correctly, sir? Kill him? Over.**

**Voice 2, That's affirmative, Regulator. And I want it messy. Impale him on the guard posts out front—oh, and cut out his tongue so he can't talk while we 'attempt' to save his sorry ass. Over.**

**Voice 1: It shall be done, sir. Out.**

Everyone in the room was silent. Although Razor had heard it before, it was clear the recorded transmission still deeply affected her.

Albert swore. 'That son of a bitch kept a straight face while Zimmerman told us about his son's death.' It was quickly becoming apparent just who the real gang was. This was Garl. This was Gizmo. This was Decker. This was underworld shit at its finest all over again. And in some ways, the deceptive element just made it seem that much darker and dirtier.

'Why haven't you given this to Josh's father?' Natalia asked Razor.

Razor gave a short bitter laugh. 'It's not like any of us can even get close to Adytum. We'd be shot dead before we even reached the gates. And honestly… I'm not sure it would help.' She looked back down at her maps. 'The only way it's going to work is if it's backed up by the threat of violence.'

'That's what all this is for?' Albert gave a wave at the maps.

'It's still not enough,' Razor revealed. 'I wasn't lying when I said we were short on firepower. There's no way we can go toe-to-toe with the Regulators with our limited arsenal. We need more guns, but the only ones we know who have enough to arm us are the Gun Runners.'

'And?' said Natalia expectantly.

'Well, for one, there's a deathclaw nest between us and them.'

'A nest?' Natalia expressed her surprise.

'We've seen the babies .'

'There must be another way around,' said Albert.

'Not the way the Gun Runners set it up. Back when they were still competing with rival gangs, they made a fortress for themselves – took over an old factory east of here, dug up the land around it, then poured barrels of toxic waste into their self-made moat. There's only one way in now.'

'Which means there's only one way out as well,' Natalia realized.

Razor nodded. 'After the deathclaws arrived and plopped their scaly lizard asses in front of their doorstep, the Gun Runners' business dried up. No one wants to go to them and they can't exactly just pick up shop and move, at least not quickly, which is what you need to be able to do when you move through deathclaw territory.'

'If they deal in weapons, why haven't they simply gone in and wiped out the deathclaws?' Albert asked.

'I don't know. We've never had the guts to try to make it past the cinema to find out.'

'The cinema?' Natalia looked concerned. That was the place Sammael had talked about.

'So if the deathclaws were out of the way, you could get guns from the Gun Runners?' asked Albert.

'It's not that simple,' Razor admitted. 'They're not going to arm us for free.'

'You have one more problem,' Albert pointed out. 'Even if you get those guns, you don't exactly have a stellar reputation amongst the people of Adytum. They think you're bloodthirsty thugs. If you show up armed to the teeth, there's no telling if the villagers themselves won't decide to stab you in the backs when you're not looking.'

Razor swore silently.

'There _is _a way around this,' Albert continued after a long moment's thought, 'but we're going to need two things. First, we're going to need this holodisk.' Albert waved the holodisk recording in the air. 'Then we're going to need your help to wipe out the deathclaws for good.'

'We can't do that!' Razor protested. Even Natalia looked shocked. 'We have a few Colts and a few boxes of bullets, but that's it! And none of us has ever faced a deathclaw before!'

'Razor,' said Albert, 'we'vebeen in the wasteland long enough to know that the only way to get unpleasant things done is to do them yourself. We're not asking you to do this alone. But we can't do it by ourselves either. We're gonna need to help each other out here.'

'But what then? Even if we succeed, the Gun Runners aren't just going to give us free weapons.'

'They will if we reverse the order of things.'

* * *

><p>The huge old cinema was in a shambles.<p>

Convinced either by Albert's plan or his display of confidence and determination, Razor had agreed to help them with the deathclaw problem, although she clearly felt out of her league. She had brought three people with her – people whom she could trust to do their jobs, even if that meant facing down a deathclaw. The three were Michelle, her scout leader, Dolgan, the weaponmaster, and Jade, one of her immediate subordinates. The Blades were indeed sorely lacking in weaponry, so Albert and Natalia loaned them their AK-112s.

While Razor and her crew surveyed the scene from behind the cover of the wrecked furniture in an old restaurant, Albert and Natalia moved off to the side to have a private conversation.

'Albert, I'm… not sure I can go through with this,' Natalia confessed. 'I thought I'd put it behind me but… I keep seeing Stone's face. And all these people here… I see Stone in each one of their faces. They're all going to die if we try to make it past the deathclaws.'

Albert gripped her shoulder firmly. 'Keep it together, Natalia.' His tone was serious. 'We can do this. We're more prepared this time.'

'We're really going through with this? Helping the Blades get back at the Regulators?'

'You heard that recorded transmission. Is there really any other option?' Natalia shook her head. 'It's the only way we can get to the Library now,' Albert continued. 'And at least this time we'll have allies on ours side.'

'That's _if _we manage to convince the Gun Runners. Do you really think they're going to help us even if we do make it past the nest?'

'They will if they know what's good for them.'

Natalia sighed. 'Alright,' she said after a long pause. She walked over to where Razor and the rest were standing watch. 'Remember, we're not here to get into a fight,' she told them. 'Not yet anyway. If they do spot us, only fire if I give the command, and focus on one deathclaw at a time. If they're anything like the one I fought before, they like to charge headfirst at you. So don't attack them out in the open. Stick to cover.'

'I don't know how you can be so calm. Most of the people who pass through this way never come back,' Michelle revealed.

Natalia wasn't calm. In fact, she was surprised she hadn't appeared even more nervous than any of Razor's people. And having all these people around… all these potential casualties… Natalia knew that history couldn't afford to repeat itself. She wasn't sure if she could bear another repeat of the incident in the deathclaw cave.

The group moved from cover to cover, all the while drawing closer and closer to the old cinema. They could detect no movement and the place seemed empty, but Natalia remembered how the cave Ian, Stone and herself had entered had also seemed empty at first. Fortunately, she now had the motion sensor Albert had given her and its sonar-like readout was not picking up on any movement except their own. On the walls of the cinema, they could see the tattered remains of movie posters featuring some horror film from pre-War days. The movie was called _Ripper_ and no one could fail to notice the morbid aptness of the title.

They made it another block before their cover ended. Ahead of them lay a mostly barren parking lot. To their left loomed the large double-storey cinema. On the other side of the parking lot up ahead, they could make out the silhouette of the factory and its large adjoining warehouse. Surrounding the factory stood the Gun Runners' own self-made moat. Even from a distance, Albert, Natalia and the rest could see the greenish goo that filled the moat. In the darkness, it actually seemed to fluoresce. Whatever this factory had been manufacturing before the War, it must have also produce extremely toxic byproducts. A single bridge forded the narrowest part of the most, constructed of a few planks of wood that had been fastened and nailed together.

The Gun Runners had certainly made for themselves a formidable defensive position, second, perhaps, only to the Brotherhood of Steel's bunker. No other settlement they had come across since first leaving the Vault – not even Junktown's wall of cars – was this well defended.

Unfortunately, this once impenetrable fortress had now also become the Gun Runner's prison. Not entirely, of course. They were heavily armed enough that if they needed, they could probably make it past the cinema without too much harassment. But it certainly made the prospect of moving caravans of weapons and goods to and from the factory a laughable one.

In the end, there was now only one way to the bridge – directly across the parking lot. Fortunately for them, there were still wrecked cars dotting the space, meaning they would not have to make an open dash to the bridge.

Natalia took a deep breath and led the way out from the cover of the buildings they had hitherto been sticking to and into the wide open lot. Now, with nothing above their heads but the night sky above, they felt even more vulnerable. Fortunately, there was still no sign of the deathclaws. Sammael must have been right about the advantages of moving around at night.

Natalia swallowed the thought as she brought the group to an abrupt halt. The blip that appeared on the motion sensor indicated that there was something moving up ahead. With her keen eyesight, Natalia had no problems detecting the large truck forty feet ahead. Whatever it was that had registered on the motion sensor was behind that truck. Pointing in the direction of a detour, Natalia led the group around a longer route that was more sheltered by old car wrecks and that skirted around the truck.

They made it a little further until the cars, too, ran out. There were still a few further ahead, closer to the bridge, but to reach those, they would have to break cover. The deathclaw over by the truck was still there but wasn't moving much – probably having a midnight snack of something (hopefully not human).

From their new position by the edge of the last car in the row, the group could now see the long tail of the deathclaw sticking out from behind the truck. Keeping their eyes on the dim silhouette, they began crossing the open space between their car and the next.

They had just made it to the cover of the next car when Natalia's motion sensor began detecting movement coming up from the bank of moat up ahead. As they watched with great trepidation, another deathclaw emerged straight ahead of them, almost directly next to the bridge to the Gun Runners' factory. There was nothing between them except about forty feet of empty space – no cover to hide behind this time.

What the deathclaw had been doing down along the bank of the moat was a mystery – perhaps it had found some poor animal that had died trying to the ford the moat the hard way, now to become its meal. Slowly, the full shape of the deathclaw came into view, its sunken, white, seemingly pupil-less eyes visible even from that distance. Everyone gasped. Albert himself, though he had heard all the stories from Natalia and Ian, couldn't help but gape at the sight of the creature. Even now he couldn't understand how fallout radiation could cause _this _much mutation. In response, he found his thoughts going back to FEV. This was all FEV's fault – it had to be – which actually meant that it was all the government's fault, at least back when it had still existed. Hadn't they watched enough movies and read enough books to at least be familiar with the idea that when you make viral weapons, they inevitably backfire?

The deathclaw clearly wasn't fully grown, standing only at eight feet in height, but even then, Natalia herself found herself inhaling sharply at the familiar sight of a creature whose lookalike had ripped Stone's body open all those months ago. The only thing that got her body moving again was the determination that history would… could not… repeat itself.

The others eventually got over their awe and were beginning to line up their shots in anticipation of Natalia's command when, to their surprise, Natalia pulled off one of her gloves and lifted her hand into the air. Almost immediately after, she began frantically gesturing for them to lower their weapons. To their amazement and puzzlement, the deathclaw, even though it had practically been staring straight at them, turned and began striding slowly away in the direction of the other deathclaw at the truck. When it had moved far enough away, they began heading over to the bridge.

'What the hell just happened there?' Razor whispered in relief. 'It looked like you were waving it away!'

'I was testing the wind,' Natalia explained, no less amazed than everyone else. 'We were standing upwind. It seems like our deathclaws can't really see all that well at night.'

'Good for us,' said Michelle.

'As long as the wind doesn't—'

'Ah, shit,' Albert muttered as a gust of wind hit them in the faces from the other direction.

First they heard the growl, then they saw the deathclaw turn. The other one stuck its head out from the back of the truck and joined the first. Neither was fully grown but that didn't make them seem any less threatening.

'What do we do? Do we run?' asked Razor. 'We're not that far from the bridge.'

'No, it'll be on us before we're even half way there,' said Natalia. 'We need to take them down. Both of them.'

'Both?' the one called Michelle murmured weakly.

'Get ready for it. Closest one first,' said Natalia as one of the deathclaws pinpointed their scent, its eyes widening more as a reflexive action than because it had necessarily spotted them in the dark. It growled once and was replied with a growl from its partner.

They charged.

Natalia lobbed one of the grenades she had gotten from the Brotherhood armory towards the rampaging deathclaws. It struck the ground, bounced once, then exploded. The deathclaws tried to avoid it as it hit the ground, but Natalia had timed her throw well. As the grenade exploded, the nearest deathclaw stumbled as its tough scaly hide was peppered by shrapnel. But that only slowed it. The other one was only too eager to take the lead.

'Fire!' Natalia yelled, as the second one got into range. Two assault rifles and two plasma pistols went off in rapid succession. Albert fired with one hand, his other on Dogmeat's back, urging the dog to keep still; he could feel Dogmeat quivering in anticipation of the attack, his fangs bared, a ferocious growl escaping his mouth.

The 5mm rounds from the assault rifle were doing nothing substantial to the deathclaw. Neither were the 10mm rounds from the other Blades'. But the plasma worked surprisingly well. Hissing splotches of green burned their way into the first deathclaw's chest as it neared. Clearly in pain, it stumbled twice. One lucky shot from Natalia's weapon struck it in the face. Its eyes bubbled and the front of its head melted away, and the enormous beast finally crashed to a halt less than fifteen feet in front of them.

In the meantime, the second one had caught up. The group was able to get a few lucky shots in but Natalia knew it wasn't going to be enough. At the last moment, noting the deathclaw's likely trajectory, she threw herself at Razor, intending to tackle her out of the way. At that moment, Albert released his hand from Dogmeat's back as the other Blades members ceased firing in order to take evasive action.

Dogmeat's leapt at an angle towards the deathclaw, his fangs latching onto the deathclaw's neck as it headed for Razor and Natalia. Thrown off balance by Dogmeat's attack, the deathclaw's long talons missed their mark, swiping the air instead. Dogmeat's momentum carried him over the deathclaw and off to the side, his fangs ripping away a huge chunk of flesh from the deathclaw's neck. No sooner had the deathclaw hit the ground than Dogmeat was back on the offensive, finishing off the work he had started.

And then all was silent. Razor had been thrown completely clear. Natalia, though spared the claws of the mutant lizard, had nevertheless ended up under the massive weight of the deathclaw's tail. With the help of Razor and her three other helpers, they managed to get the tail off their fallen friend.

'Are you alright?' Albert asked as he helped her to her feet.

'I never knew I had that much wind to be knocked out of me,' Natalia breathed. 'Good thing these ones were just younglings.'

'Younglings?' Albert sounded worried.

'Come on, we need to get to the bridge before more come,' said Natalia. 'They may not be able to see very well, but I'm willing to bet they can hear just fine.'

As if in response, they heard what sounded like a ferocious roar coming from the cinema. It was replied by two more roars, less loud, coming from various places in the surrounding ruins.

Leaving the two deathclaw corpses behind them, the group quickly covered the rest of the distance to the bridge, reaching it, to their great relief, without further incident.

As they neared it, the glowing moat loomed closer. Contrary to their imaginations, the moat wasn't bubbling or churning at all as they peered over the edge of the embankment; it stood calm but no less lethal. Gazing over the curvature of the moat, they spotted a small patch of dry, raised ground in the middle of the moat where the remnants of a corpse lay, its hands outstretched as if the person had somehow crawled there after… what?..._ swimming_ in the moat?

'Maybe he was trying to escape the deathclaws,' Michelle suggested.

Everyone cringed at the thought.

'Looks as though he died painfully,' Razor said sadly.

Casting their eyes away from the grizzly sight, the group looked across the bridge where a guard dressed in combat armor and carrying a shotgun stood watch. He was standing so still that they almost mistook him for a part of the wall of stacked barrels behind him. A careful look revealed that another guard stood behind the wall, watching the moat bridge and them through the gaps between the barrels.

The first guard stood up and stepped onto the bridge, blocking their way across. 'What is your business here?' His shotgun was held at the ready even though it wasn't pointing directly at them.

'Not even an "Are you okay?",' Jade muttered. 'We sure could have used your help back there,' she said irritably.

'We know of some people who have an interested in your weapons,' said Albert, ignoring Jade's comment and drawing the stern-looking guard's attention to himself instead.

The guard reached for his short range radio that had been fasted around the chest plates of his armor. He exchanged a few words with his superior, then turned back to them. 'You're clear. Go on into the warehouse. Gabriel will speak with you there. Don't fall of the bridge.' He stood back and allowed them passage.

Crossing the bridge single-file was a harrowing experience but at least the planks were sturdy. They made it across to the other side without incident but were struck by just how impressive the size of the moat was. Judging by its width , it must have taken years to dig, or at least must have required some serious heavy duty machinery.

Once across, they headed to the entrance of the warehouse ahead. The large building had once been accessible by means of a large metal roll-door to allow for vehicular access, though that would have been impossible now since the only way to the factory was across the bridge, which was too narrow for even a compact car. Any caravans that arrived would have to offload on the other side of the moat. Perhaps for that reason, as well as security, thick metal bars had been driven straight through the base of the roll-door, effectively jamming it shut. That left the single door beside it as the only way in – again, another impressive defensive precaution.

Inside, the group found themselves in a large storage space, both horizontally and vertically. Over in the far corner stood dozens of old metal lockers and wooden crates. To the right a couple of cheap mattresses had been arranged beside a large machine that looked like an old printing press or assembly line machine of some kind, complete with its own conveyor belt. On the left were a couple of ancient forklifts and a dozens of piles and racks of all manner of weaponry and ammunition. Ahead, seated on car-seat chairs at a couple of wooden tables sat half a dozen armed Gun Runners. A squat man in faded blue coveralls seemed to be the only one who wasn't armed. Noticing their arrival, he waddled over.

'Hi, I'm Zack.' He reached out a pudgy hand to Albert. 'So. You want to buy some weapons, do you?'

Albert shook the shorter man's hand. 'We do, but we also have a proposition. Are you Gabriel?'

The short man shook his head and led them to another room at the back of the warehouse. Inside there were a couple of bunk beds and a few desks. The place double-functioned as an office and bedroom to the leaders of the Gun Runners. A large, well-armed man checking inventory lists at one of the desks got up upon their entry and made his way over to them. He was a giant next to the shorter man who had just brought them in. He reached out a hand in greeting to each one of them, introducing himself as Gabriel.

'It's not often that we get visitors.'

'I'm not surprised,' said Albert. 'This place can't be very accessible what with a nest of those damn deathclaws right outside.'

'You got that right.

'You guys seem fairly well armed,' Albert observed. 'Why don't you go exterminate those lizards yourselves?'

'Believe me, we've gone over and taken out a few, but they always come back.'

'Go after their nest,' Albert suggested.

'We'd like to, but we're machinists, not fighters.'

'Didn't you used to be a mean gang of some sort?' asked Jade, apparently the mouthiest of Razor's people.

'"Used to" is right. That's over a generation ago. We're different now.'

'How difficult can it be?' Jade pestered. 'If we had the guns, we'd wipe them out ourselves.'

'Think it's that easy, do you?' Gabriel challenged. 'Have _you _ever shot down a deathclaw before?' Jade was silent. 'Pump them full of lead and they still keep coming. We already lost a few men during those first few days when they arrived. And if they got you in close quarters…' He left the sentence unfinished. 'If there _are _deathclaw eggs, they sure aren't above ground, out in the open. Trust me, we've checked. And if you think we're going to go chasing after deathclaws into their dark hidey holes, you're sorely mistaken.'

'That's where we can help each other,' said Albert.

Gabriel looked surprised. 'If you could actually get rid of the deathclaws once and for all you could name your price.'

'My friends here could really use some of your weapons,' said Albert.

'Enough to equip a dozen people,' Razor said, then added: 'Enough to cut through Regulator armor.'

Gabriel smiled. 'Ah, that's how it is. Y'know, ever since the deathclaws moved in, we haven't been willing to leave this place for long. The only place close enough to trade with us is Adytum. Now, trust me, the Regulators are leeching us – we'd love nothing more than to find less… cutthroat trading partners – but for now, they're the only stable trade source of income we have. If you get rid of them—'

'Then you'll be dealing with us,' Razor said matter-of-factly. 'And I can guarantee you we'll give you a better deal than what the Regulators are offering.'

Gabriel appeared to seriously consider the proposition. 'Twelve people you say? I have some weapons that could cut through the metal armor them Regulators always wear. But I'll only give those to you on loan.'

'What are we talking about, exactly?' Razor asked.

Gabriel nodded at Zack who raced around the back to a couple of lockers and returned carrying a weapon that was all too familiar to Albert.

'That there's a Wattz 1000 Laser Pistol,' Gabriel announced with gusto. 'The latest in hand held laser technology.'

'What kind of damage will this do?' asked Razor, examining the small pistol he had just passed her.

'Well, that one won't do you much good. It's still lacking the lenses and amplifier.' He took the weapon back and placed it on his desk. 'But in the hands of a skilled warrior, a fully functioning laser pistol could cut a person in half. The beam will shear flesh faster than you can run your finger through sand.'

'And metal?'

'Meh. Not so good. Likely it'll probably just bounce off.'

'Well, in that case, one or two of those might be handy but we'll need something else.'

'In that case, you'll want this.'

Gabriel nodded to Zack again who trotted back over to the lockers and returned with a mini rocket in one hand and a huge tube-shaped weapon that was taller than he was.

'Now this,' Gabriel gushed. 'This is the Rockwell BigBazooka rocket launcher. Heavy duty stuff. Uses a three-pound trigger and fires explosive or AP rounds. For metal armor, you'll want this.' He relieved Zack of the rocket shell and showed it to them. 'This one creates a smaller bang than the explosive warhead, but it's designed to pierce armor plating. Although you'll probably want someone who can handle the weight. Even unloaded, this thing weighs in at sixteen pounds.

'We do have one more request,' said Albert. 'We need your firepower to take out the deathclaws.'

'Didn't you hear a word I was saying?' Gabriel exclaimed. 'I told you, we're not fighters. And besides, if we did all the dirty work, why would we even need you?'

'Two things.' Albert raised his fingers. 'First, I didn't say you'd have to go deathclaw hunting. All you need to do is sit tight with your weapons ready.'

'Until what?' Zack demanded.

'Until we bring them to you. No cramped close combat fighting. Just straight out raw firepower. And, second: how long do you think you can hold out until the next bunch of crazies comes in offering to help you with your deathclaw problem? I saw the amount of equipment and weapons you have on display. Moving base to another secure location is going to take a lot of uninterrupted time and effort. I don't think the deathclaws are going to give you any slack in that department.'

Gabriel looked over to Zack with a brief flash of uncertainty before turning back to Albert. 'Alright. You help us clear out the deathclaws, _all of them_, and you got yourself a deal.'

Albert turned to Natalia who gave him a silent thumbs-up. Her mouth silently formed the shape of the words: 'You still got it.'

* * *

><p>The darkened night sky was just beginning to lighten when the Gun Runners, Razor and her Blades, and the two vault dwellers and their dog were finally prepared. Overnight, the group had moved dozens of barrels out to the other side of the moat in the middle of the parking lot, where they had constructed their barricade and laid their trap. They had used empty barrels to form the barricade, similar in shape and concept to the wall that the Gun Runners had set up next to the plank bridge over their moat. Empty barrels weren't as sturdy as full ones, naturally, but they were heavy enough, and at least if they ruptured they wouldn't kill those hiding behind them.<p>

As for the trap itself, it was a "minefield" of individual barrels, filled with the glowing green chemicals, spaced out in a large area with enough space between them that a human could pass without difficulty, but narrow enough that a deathclaw would have trouble getting through without at least bumping into some of them.

'Alright, we're as ready as we're gonna be,' said Gabriel. '_Now _what? How are you going to bring the deathclaws here? They're smart enough to avoid the factory, so what makes you think they're gonna want to attack us here when we're in full force?'

'Firstly, because you're hiding behind all these barrels until it's time to fire,' Natalia began.

'Which doesn't seem to matter,' Gabriel interjected. 'We've killed a couple that were dumb enough to walk past our bridge but that rarely ever happens.'

'And _secondly_,' Natalia continued, 'because the usual way in which they identify your presence, their sense of smell, isn't going to work.'

'Why not?'

'Camouflage,' said Natalia, secretly hoping that the inside of deathclaws smelled at least something like the outside of them.

* * *

><p>After thirty minutes and much complaining, the deed was done, and over twenty miserable looking people, covered in the innards of the two dead deathclaws from the previous night, stood behind their barricades, waiting to unleash hell on the deathclaws for the indignity they just had to put themselves through.<p>

'Alright, _now _what?' Gabriel repeated, sounding a whole lot surlier than he had a half hour ago. 'We can't just wait here and _hope _they decide to walk past our trap.'

'Now we piss them off,' said Albert.

'Correction,' said Natalia, coming back from what she had claimed had been a bathroom break but had turned out to be a wardrobe change. '_I'm _going to piss them off,' she said.

Everyone stared with their jaws hanging open at the sight of Natalia wearing only the somewhat figure-hugging, black bodysuit that normally was worn beneath combat armor. Her hair, by now much longer than when they had first set out from Vault-13, had been pulled sharply back and tied up in an intricate bun so it wouldn't get in her way. The only thing she carried with her was her plasma pistol and bandoleer of three throwing knives she had taken from Decker's corpse all those weeks ago in the Hub.

Albert caught himself allowing his eyes to wander over the curves of her well-toned body. He had forgotten she used to be actively involved in acrobatics back in the Vault. It certainly showed.

'Err… what are you doing?' he asked, realizing as he spoke that his voice had come out just a little strangely.

'There's no way I'm going to be able to outrun or outmaneuver a deathclaw in that,' Natalia explained as she tossed her combat armor at his feet. Albert glanced down at her feet.

'_And_ you're barefooted,' he commented.

'Spandex and boots are the worst possible combination,' she retorted. 'Besides, I need to be able to move quietly.'

'That thing's not going to give you any protection at all! One swipe from a deathclaw and you're dead!' Albert protested. That wasn't entirely true and Albert knew it. The bodysuit wasn't exactly spandex. While very flexible, it had also been designed to resist tears and cuts, just in case an assailant managed to get a blade under the wearer's armor padding. On the other hand, as tear and cut-resistant though it was, there still was no way it would be able to stop an attack by a deathclaw.

'Then I just gotta be careful,' Natalia replied. 'And I have this!' She waved the motion sensor attached to her PIPBoy in the air.

Albert gave her a serious look. 'You're… sure about this…?' He was referring to her earlier doubts.

She returned the look. 'I am.'

Albert sighed. 'Alright. Just… _really really _be careful in there. There are at least three deathclaws still prowling around somewhere.'

'I'll be fine,' she smiled.

She headed over to the pail of deathclaw innards that they had salvaged from the two nearby deathclaw corpses a few hours ago. Inhaling deeply and shuddering more than once, she began to scoop out the blood and chopped up organs and generously smear them all over her body.

With that, she turned and walked past the barricade of empty barrels and through the barrel-minefield. Even as covered in gore as she was from head to foot, everyone else, Albert included, found themselves unable to resist awkwardly watching as her taut glutes flexed beneath the fabric of her bodysuit.

* * *

><p>Natalia approached the cinema with trepidation. The barricade was behind her now and everyone had fallen silent. She stopped and checked her motion sensor for the umpteenth time. Nothing. She hoped the deathclaws didn't know how to lie motionless in ambush for their prey. Still, the motion sensor seemed sensitive enough to pick up even slight movements.<p>

A blip appeared on her motion sensor – something just inside the cinema. Carefully, she peered into one of the open windows. There it was. A lone deathclaw was crouched over in the middle of an enormous empty lobby, its attention (and teeth) focused on the remnants of a human corpse. A few feet away lay the some piece of equipment's CPU. Natalia had to do a double take before she realized that, judging by the descriptions Sammael had given her before she and Albert had left Adytum, it was likely the part he was looking for.

'That thing's coming with me,' she said under her breath, as she stepped gingerly through the open window and drew her plasma pistol with her free hand. Silently, she allowed herself a moment of thankfulness for having discarded the combat armor; there was no way she would have been able to make it through the small window as noiselessly or as quickly as she had in heavy duty defense padding or combat boots.

Once inside, she realized she was still too far to have a guaranteed hit. She needed to make it a headshot. Anything else would likely just maim the deathclaw but not stop it. And this time, she wouldn't have the back up of five other people and one dog. She edged closer to the deathclaw from behind, trusting to the blood and entrails smeared on her suit to mask her smell and her shoeless feet to conceal the sound of her approach.

She was almost within ten feet when she began moving around to the deathclaw's side so as to get a clear line of sight to its head. Whatever deathclaws had originated from before their species' mutation, they were certainly geared towards a predatory role now, what with their forward facing eyes. Fortunately for her, this meant she should have little difficulty sneaking up to its side without being noticed.

She could just start to make out the whites of its eyes when, deciding she had come close enough, Natalia pulled the trigger. The sound of superheated plasma flying from the barrel of her Glock 86 was far more muted than more conventional firearms, but it was still too loud for comfort in that silent cinema.

The plasma hit the deathclaw in the head and, immediately, it let out an enormous bellow of pain. It managed to turn halfway round to face her when she sent another plasma bolt into the creature's now partially exposed brain. The deathclaw gave a guttural shriek, and then abruptly crumpled to the floor as its synapses liquefied in a flash of plasma.

Without wasting any time, Natalia rushed over to the fallen CPU. It was the size of a briefcase and weighed about as much. The casing had been battered, likely when the deathclaw (or deathclaws) had attacked the now-dead scav, but a quick look inside suggested the electrical components within were undamaged. Snatching it up from the floor, Natalia was just about to leave when two more blips appeared on her motion sensor, approaching rapidly from the north. She looked up just in time to see two mid-sized deathclaws – even smaller than the ones from the previous night, each one about six feet in height – appear on the other side of the cinema. One galloped through an open doorway, the other leaped gracefully through one of the large windows on the northern wall.

Another blip appeared, this one coming from behind her to her left. Glancing quickly in that direction, Natalia saw a large staircase headed down into the main auditorium of the cinema. From within emerged a large, fully grown deathclaw, this one just above ten feet tall. Natala looked back towards the window to the main street from which she had come and knew the adult deathclaw would reach it before her if she tried to make a break for it.

But had they seen her? None of the deathclaws looked as though it had detected her yet. Looking down quickly at her options and with no other cover in the wide open space of the lobby, Natalia dropped the CPU, then squeezed herself under the corpse of the dead deathclaw. There she waited with bated breath as the deathclaws approached the scene, curious as to what had caused the commotion and why one of their fellow deathclaws was lying motionless next to the corpse it had been snacking on.

For the longest time, the three deathclaws merely milled around the scene. Prodding the corpse of the deathclaw, making small grunting noises, and looking around for an unseen enemy. But when the adult deathclaw began nudging the dead one's body more forcefully, Natalia knew she was in trouble.

With one sudden shove, the deathclaw completely rolled the corpse over, revealing Natalia's hiding place.

For the longest moment, everything, human and beast, froze in shock. Then Natalia let loose with a burst from her plasma gun. The adult deathclaw howled in pain as the plasma ate away at its face. Before the other two deathclaws could react to the sudden turn of events, Natalia was up and running, heading for the closest shelter she could see – the ticketing booths.

Vaulting gracefully over the counter of one of the booths, she turned her body as she slid over the countertop, firing her gun as she did so at the two remaining deathclaws. She managed to take one down, but the other had closed the gap in the meantime and leapt over the counter at her.

Natalia ducked at the last moment causing the deathclaw to hit the wall behind her and collapse to the floor beside her in a disoriented mess. Cornered, by the temporarily fallen deathclaw, its claws flailing dangerously close to where she crouched, Natalia turned and leaped back over the counter behind her in order to keep the booth between her and the mutant lizard.

By the time the deathclaw had recovered and risen to its feet, Natalia was ready for it. Before the creature could pounce again, she had fired two point-black blasts into its head.

Natalia exhaled in relief. She was lucky the two half-grown deathclaws had gone down so easily. The only one left was the first adult deathclaw. The plasma had burnt away most of the top half of its face which meant that it couldn't see _or _smell anymore. The creature stumbled around the lobby, making painful choking noises in its throat.

Despite how close a call the fight had been, Natalia couldn't help but feel pity at the undoubtedly excruciating pain the deathclaw must have been going through. She walked over to the lurching, staggering creature, ducking every now and then to avoid its swinging arms. Finally, when she had a clear shot, she pulled the trigger once more. The second blast from the plasma pistol finished the job, ending the deathclaw's cries as well as its pain.

Plasma weapons did terrible things to their targets, Natalia decided. Though she could certainly imagine it, she felt sure she didn't ever want to see what a human face would look like were it to be struck by a plasma bolt. She shuddered at the thought, holstered the weapon, and walked over to retrieve the fallen CPU.

As the adrenaline wore off and her hearing became more attuned to background noises, she realized she could detect the sound of gunfire. With all the ruined buildings in the area, the echoes made it difficult to tell it's exact source but she was willing to bet the team back at the barricade were facing their own share of deathclaws. Perhaps they had been drawn in by her own firefight.

How long had it been going on already? Judging by the sounds of it, the fighting was still at its peak. Natalia wasn't sure if she should go back to help. After all, she didn't want to get caught in friendly fire by mistake. Still, perhaps it would be better if she at least went to take a look to make sure they were doing okay.

Her mind decided, Natalia was about to leave the cinema when she felt something tug at her, causing her to turn reluctantly around, her attentions focused on the staircase leading down into the large screening auditorium.

The feeling was familiar. She remembered it from back in the Vault during her younger years. It was cacoethes: the urge to do something inadvisable – to sneak into places in the Vault she wasn't meant to go, to take things that weren't hers, to unlock doors that were not meant to be unlocked… Now the darkened entrance to the auditorium beckoned, its doors standing ajar from when the adult deathclaw had first burst its way out into the lobby. A small gust of wind blew through the open windows, doors, and damaged walls of the lobby, causing the auditorium doors to flutter, banging sporadically against the wall, enticing her to see just what was inside. Part of her screamed that nothing good could come of this, but the other inquisitive half of her won.

Natalia knew she should get back, at the very least to give Albert the CPU for safekeeping. Yet wasn't her job to draw out the deathclaws and lure them back to the barricade? She hadn't even needed to do that with the last three deathclaws. Shouldn't she at least have done her job to warrant her return?

She sighed and walked back over to the ticketing booths, where she slid the CPU into one of the shelves for safekeeping. Then she turned her attention to the flapping doors and the darkened entrance of the auditorium within. Chances were that it was probably empty. After all, if there had been anything inside, it should have emerged to investigate the sounds of fighting at least a few minutes ago. It was probably nothing.

_All the more reason to check it out, just to be sure_, Natalia thought to herself. The thrill of excitement and fear rushed through her veins as she silently made her way over to the auditorium steps.

Each step she took down brought her closer to the gaping darkened entrance, and with each step, her muscles tensed, prepared to send her into a quick flight if anything should emerge. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, pumping adrenaline throughout her body.

But nothing came.

After the longest descent over the shortest distance that she had ever undertaken, Natalia found herself standing within the darkened room, more steps leading downwards to where the large viewing screen hung. At first, that was all she could see. She took a few more steps into the darkness to help her eyes adjust.

Slowly the curtains framing the screen became visible, then the silhouette of the hundreds of folding seats took shape in her vision. And then…

Eggs. Over two dozen of them, situated in clusters of three or four along some of the rows of seats. These ones were bigger than those Natalia had seen in the deathclaw cave months ago. These ones were at least two feet in height, if not taller. And they had to go. If the Gun Runners were going to live up to their end of the bargain, she had to do her part in turn.

Gingerly, Natalia approached the closest cluster of eggs. She drew one of her throwing knives and pressed the blade against the eggshell. When it didn't yield, even under pressure, she changed her grip, and stabbed hard.

A dark ichor ran out from the hole. Natalia made a face, and then dragged the knife down even further, releasing more of the albumen. Placing her knife aside, she reached for the egg on both sides of the cut she had made, and then pried the shell open. With a sudden audible crack, the shell broke in two, and an almost fully-formed deathclaw fetus slid out onto the floor.

Natalia yelped in surprise and leapt back as the slimy thing came to rest in a wet puddle of fluids that had once protected and nourished it. For the longest moment, she just stared at its lifeless form, not knowing how to feel. Then, gradually, guilt welled up inside her. She should have known this would happen – should have prepared herself for it – yet the suddenness of it all took her by surprise. And the longer she knelt there staring at the dead thing lying on the floor, the worse she felt. Before she knew it, tears had sprung to her eyes as the implications of what she had just done hit her. Dangerous as they were, perhaps even when they were newborns, this thing that now lay in a puddle of albumen and yolk still represented life trying to struggle for survival in this harsh wasteland – life that she had now extinguished.

Albert would have dismissed her concerns, she knew. Just like before the War, people in the Vault had very different opinions about when life actually began. As a former marriage and family counselor, Albert was the kind of person who prioritized the physical, mental, and emotional health of the mother. Natalia didn't know what she herself thought – didn't know if the lifeless form that lay before her now could in fact truly have been considered a "living being". Maybe Tycho might have felt that way – him and his faith. Or maybe not. Natalia didn't know – didn't know what Tycho thought and didn't know what she herself thought. She didn't even know if making such a cross-species comparison was even warranted in the first place; at some level, it did seem utterly ludicrous to bring ethics into this. But it didn't change anything. All she knew was that in a world that had become so adverse to the continuation of life, she had just trampled on the one tangible symbol of it – if not a newborn itself, then the prospect of one. The act might have been necessary, but it didn't make her feel any better. And, looking at the other two dozen or so eggs in the auditorium, she knew she was going to have to do the same thing again, many more times.

She sat there by the broken egg, staring at the motionless deathclaw fetus for what seemed like hours but was probably just a few minutes. Gradually, her tears stopped. She wiped her eyes, sniffing loudly, and then tried to steel herself for the rest of the task. There could be time for remorse later. The fact of the matter remained – this _had _to be done. The deathclaws had become a threat to everyone living in the area who didn't have the luxury of a chain-link fence and dozens of armed guards to protect them day and night, regardless of whether those guards were also extortionists and liars. 'Sometimes doing the right thing means being a very bad person,' Albert had said. Maybe this counted.

Slowly and reluctantly, Natalia moved over to the second egg her knife raised but still shaking in her hand. She wasn't sure if she could do it. Not again. But it had to be done, she reminded herself. She gritted her teeth and was just about to take the plunge when she heard a long, loud, low growl – the same one she had heard the previous night from this very cinema; the one that had dwarfed all the others. Worst of all was that it was coming from behind her, from the doorway through which she had just entered.

Spotting the small corridor at the bottom of the auditorium steps which would logically (and hopefully) lead to an emergency exit, Natalia got up from beside the egg, prepared to hightail her way to safety. But she had only just cleared one row of seats when she heard the heavy thump of a deathclaw's foot as it entered the auditorium. With no time to run, Natalia dropped into a prone position, using the row of seats she had just leapt across to hide her from the approaching creature.

From her place of concealment, Natalia couldn't see the deathclaw, but she knew this one had to be different from all the others. Its breathing was deeper, heavier. Its footfalls were louder, harder. And when she heard it pause by the remnants of the broken egg and the lifeless fetus, Natalia suspected what it was. When it began making deep yet whining noises in its throat as it examined the lifeless form, Natalia's suspicions were confirmed.

_Mother_.

A mixture of guilt, fear, anguish, terror, regret, and pain struck Natalia all at once as the mother deathclaw wailed – a wail that was at the same time both terrifyingly loud and yet also deeply pained.

Eyes still wet from tears, Natalia cringed and, to her surprise, found herself crying openly now – a reaction she would never have thought possible in her first encounter with a deathclaw back in that cave. The empathic reaction of the mother deathclaw to her dead unborn was so akin to a human's that Natalia couldn't help but feel even worse about what she had done a few minutes before.

'I'm sorry! I'm _so _sorry!' she whispered inaudibly to the mother, just one row above her.

The moment seemed to last forever – a mother crying over the physical evidence of her dead offspring, now never to see the light of day, and the silent weeping of a woman who, though never having experienced motherhood herself, still found herself somehow empathizing with a creature not even of the same species.

As if in response to the wailing, one of the eggs in Natalia's row, two feet from her head shook. Natalia's silent cries ceased as she looked up at the crack that had just appeared at the top of the shell. A small claw poked its way out.

The mother's wailing faded. She had heard the egg too.

Another crack and a bit more of the shell fell away. Lying next to the egg, Natalia realized she was in the worst possible position she could be. The guilt was still there. The pain was still there. The regret was still there. But the terror jumped up a notch.

As she looked up, the enormous head of the mother emerged over the top of the seats in the row. Judging by the size of her head, the deathclaw had to be at least fourteen or fifteen feet in height. Her two terrible, sunken white eyes filled Natalia's vision, almost mesmerizing her by their pasty whiteness. Although Natalia was sure it was just her imagination, she almost believed she saw the pain Razor had evinced in her own eyes now mirrored in this deathclaw's huge white orbs.

But her musings were shortlived. Deathclaws may have had poor vision, but at that close distance, there was no missing Natalia. First, the deathclaw looked at the egg as it began to hatch. Then her attention inevitably shifted over to the prone form of the human lying just next to it.

* * *

><p>Albert and the rest wiped the sweat from their brows. Less than a minute after they had heard gunshots coming from Natalia's direction in the cinema, the deathclaws had arrived from the south, probably drawn by the same noises. As luck would have had it, they had walked right into the middle of the toxic barrel trap that the group had spent the night laying.<p>

The group had opened fire on full-auto, not only catching the deathclaws in a cloud of bullets but also hitting and rupturing many of the barrels that had been fully loaded with corrosive chemicals. Even then, it had only been just enough to take down three full-size deathclaws and two younglings. One of the adults had even managed to make it all the way to the barricade, its head, smoking from the dozens of bullets within it, now sticking through a hole in the barricade where it had almost made it through.

The barrel-minefield really did look like a warzone now, with deathclaw bodies and a mixture of blood and chemicals blending together into a ruddy brown mix that seeped into the dusty sand-covered ground. But it was a victory, at least on the side of the humans who had suffered no casualties.

The group had managed to take down the family of deathclaws _and _spare Natalia from becoming otherwise overwhelmed, but now their attentions turned back to their missing friend. What had happened over on her end?

As if in response, there came from the direction of the cinema the sound of bare feet slapping onto tiled flooring. Closer and closer it came until suddenly Natalia came diving through one of the windows. She curled herself into a roll and ended up on her feet in a graceful crouch.

Before anyone could say or do anything, she opened her mouth and shouted at them.

'Shoot!'

At first, no one knew what she was talking about. But a split second later, the window frame and the entire wall on that side of the cinema burst apart, scattering rubble and dust all over Natalia. Barging through came the biggest deathclaw any of them had ever seen, her fangs bared and eyes wide with insane rage. Her head and shoulders were covered in powdered plaster.

The gigantic mother deathclaw gave a deafening roar, spurring Natalia into action. She broke into a sprint, moving faster than Albert had ever seen anyone run. The deathclaw's talons raked the ground where she had been crouched only moments before. The mother turned her attention to her fleeing prey, then leaped after her. Natalia turned her head in mid stride, suddenly engulfed within in the enormous shadow of the creature. Realizing how close the mother was, she threw herself flat to the ground as the deathclaw missed her by a hair's breadth.

Now the deathclaw stood between her and the rest of the group. Natalia scrambled to her feet. In response, the creature lowered herself close to the ground, readying for another leap. At that distance, there was no way Natalia, however agile, would be able to dodge in time.

A .233 round slammed into the deathclaw's shoulder, causing her to lurch ever so slightly. She turned and fixed the people at the barricade with her maddened glare.

'DAMN IT! Missed!' Gabriel swore as he lined up his DKS-501 sniper rifle for another shot. He pulled the trigger again but, to everyone's amazement, the deathclaw, through some survival instinct or sixth sense or just pure dumb luck, actually jerked herself aside, causing the second bullet to whiz harmlessly through the air.

Natalia didn't waste the opportunity she had been given. Running across the road, she leapt through another open doorway of an old grocery store opposite the cinema. Hearing her movement, the deathclaw turned and gave chase, again smashing through the relatively flimsy concrete walls as if they were made of twigs.

'_Damn_!' Gabriel swore again as they lost sight of both Natalia and deathclaw. All they could hear now was the sound of utter carnage as the deathclaw gave chase through the old grocery store, destroying every single thing in her path in the process.

For too many seconds, that was all they heard – that and the occasional roar of rage and frustration. Then the sounds grew closer towards them and, a few seconds later, Natalia came bursting out of yet another window, cleverly using the walls, flimsy as they were, to slow the deathclaw down.

The mother deathclaw came crashing through again, predictable now but no less awe-inspiring. Temporarily, slowed by the impact, she shook the clouds of debris from her face as she tried to relocate Natalia with her limited vision. Natalia was already sprinting again.

'Fire!' Natalia yelled as she ran directly towards them. Fatigued from bashing through all those walls, the deathclow took longer to react this time. Too far away or too tired to pounce, she broke into a run. Like a locomotive, she started slow, but picked up momentum and speed with each passing second. Her heavy footfalls thumped noisily as she gave chase.

Everyone behind the barricade had their weapons raised without a clear line of fire.

'Wait!' Albert called with one hand raised in the air to halt any gunfire. 'Not until Natalia's out of the way!'

'It'll be too late!' one of the Gun Runners yelled frantically as the deathclaw shifted from a two-legged sprint to a full four-legged gallop narrowing the gap between herself and Natalia in seconds.

'Wait!' Albert repeated, louder this time as Natalia and the behemoth raced towards them. 'Dammit, she's not going to be able to make it in time,' he hissed to himself. 'Hold fire!' he shouted again. The deathclaw was close enough now to leap after Natalia had she actually the energy to do so. Natalia's hair, now covered in white plaster, had come loose from its bun and trailed crazily behind her as she sprinted for her life.

The gap between Natalia and the pursuing deathclaw had shrunk to less than ten feet when she finally reached the first barrel in the minefield. Knowing she wouldn't be able to make it all the way past the minefield back to the barricade, Natalia launched herself into a dive, aiming for a gap between two of the chemical-filled barrels.

'Fire!' she screamed again as she hit the ground.

With Natalia finally out of the line of fire, Albert affirmed the order.

The air was filled with a cacophony of half a dozen different kinds of weapons going off simultaneously. Many of the shots went wide, but with the amount of firepower that was being unloaded, the giant deathclaw found herself charging straight into a hailstorm of death. Several rounds hit the remaining chemical-filled barrels, splashing the creature with their highly corrosive contents.

While the air became filled with fiery death, Natalia low-crawled frantically through the minefield towards the safety of the barricade. She was close enough to the ground that none of shooters were aiming directly in her direction. Even so, stray bullets were striking the barrels all around her, causing droplets of the glowing liquid waste to spray dangerously all around her.

As large and powerful as it was, the deathclaw, already bleeding from dozens of bullet wounds, could not withstand the onslaught. All she knew, was that her brood was dead; even with her limited vision she could see their corpses all around her now. The source of all the pain lay ahead and she was determined to end it. The mother kept lumbering forward towards the barricade, one of her eyes now blinded from having been hit not once but twice. Nearly trampling Natalia in her blind charge, the deathclaw kept rampaging forward, slowed but still too fast for comfort.

Everyone scattered as she crashed through the barricade of empty barrels, scattering them everywhere. Still she ran, no longer able to see, driven only by her madness until she hit the slope leading down into the moat. She stumbled and then fell, her entire upper half splashing into the glowing green moat behind the barricade. Too weakened even to raise herself out of the moat, the mother of the deathclaws finally met her rest.

Natalia pushed herself up weakly from the ground, the black body suit sizzling in places where the corrosive contents of the barrels had splashed onto her. Through the scattered barrels that had once made up the barricade, she could make out the tail and back legs of the mother even as her top half was being eaten away by the chemicals in the moat.

'I'm sorry,' Natalia said again, then collapsed from sheer physical and nervous exhaustion.


	26. Chapter 25: Apocalypse Then and Now

We really _are _gradually nearing the end, dear readers. I think another five to eight chapters ought to do it. Btw, I added 2 things to the last chapter, for those of you who read it early:

1: I wanted to cover the events of the Regulator transmissions more fully in this chapter so I initially left out its actual playback in the previous chapter. But after deciding to only use snippets of it in this chapter, I decided to add the whole dialogue-exchange into the previous chapter. If you'd like to read it, please go to the previous chapter and search for "Voice 1".

2: In retrospect, the last chapter's notion of empathizing with mama deathclaw was kind of… weird. At least I think so. I still think it's interesting, so I'm leaving it in, but I added a paragraph to the previous chapter so that Natalia's sudden empathy at the moment she breaks the egg doesn't seem quite so… sudden.

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Apocalypse Then and Now**

The scream was distant but distinct. Zimmerman leapt from his bed, sweat drenching his brow. In the dream his dead wife had been calling to him – screaming for his help. But the scream didn't subside with the dream. It went on into reality. It was coming from the southern gate. It had to be.

Still dressed in his night clothes, Zimmerman snatched his handgun and ran out from the house without even putting on any footwear. Outside the streets were still empty but already candles were being lit in the windows all over town. The few Regulators who patrolled the streets all had their attentions directed towards the south. Zimmerman ran with them.

The southern gate had been one of the first parts of the fence to be set up, back when the town had only been a quarter of its current size. No one used that gate now. All traffic was directed through the north-western entrance now. It made guarding Adytum easier for the Regulators.

But what had happened now? Had the accursed Blades somehow managed to breach the old southern gate? And had the Regulators caught them in mid-act? Zimmerman hoped the scream belonged to the first of those damned Blades to try to pass through the fence. And yet… distorted as the person's voice was in mid-scream, there was something unpleasantly familiar about it. Maybe it belonged to a former Adytumer who hadn't paid his dues and had consequently been evicted only to join the Blades for revenge. If that were the case, then there was an even stronger reason for Zimmerman to hope that that was the source of the screams.

When Zimmerman got to the southern gate, he found two Regulators already there, frantically trying to unlock the aged padlock. Just outside the gate stood the old guard hut with the spiked posts stationed around its front for defence. Adytum hadn't needed those defences once the double chain link fence had come up. The fence had become a much more secure option than a single observation hut, and as a result, the Regulators had decided to leave the old building and posts on the outside of the fenced perimeter; it was not like they could use it for anything else.

The three-foot posts themselves were arranged in a semi-circular row surrounding the hut, with the spikes all facing outwards. Back in Adytum's early days, when the early townspeople had not yet eked out their own territory and wild mutated animals were still a problem, the spiked posts had been extremely effective against animal attacks. But once the animals had more or less learnt to avoid the town and threats had begun to come increasingly from raider groups like the Blades instead, the old guard post had become all but useless.

At least until now. Now they had served one last use.

Reaching the double chain-link fence, Zimmerman joined the growing number of horrified looking townspeople and Regulators as they watched the figure of a young man jerking spasmodically as his body lay impaled on two of the narrow spiked posts. He had long since stopped screaming and even though the position of his hands and arms still made it seem as if he were trying to push himself off the posts, it was clear that he was rapidly losing blood and energy. In the dark, no one could really see the man's face, but Zimmerman was starting to get a very bad feeling in his gut.

The two Regulators working on the gate finally got it open, only to face the locks on the gate of the second outer chain link fence.

'Out of the way…' Zimmerman said, reaching them. 'Out of the way! _Out of the way_!' he repeated, his voice climbing in volume as the fear welled up inside him. He _had _to know for sure who it was who was now flopping around like a dead fish on a spear.

Zimmerman shoved the two guards aside, drew his magnum, and fired two shots into the old lock. The heavy duty rounds destroyed the metal lock completely, freeing the Regulators to rush out of the opening gate to the assistance of the dying young man. Zimmerman came close behind them.

'No no no no no no NO!' he screamed as he neared, recognizing the hair, the clothes, and then, finally, the face of his son. 'JOSH!' he wailed, loud enough to wake the rest of the entire town. The two Regulators reached for Zimmerman's son but hesitated.

'He's going to lose a lot of blood if we pull him off,' one of the Regulators said to Zimmerman.

'He's gone anyway,' a voice said calmly from nearby. They turned to see Caleb coming up to them. 'Pull him off,' he ordered solemnly. 'No man should die like that.'

The Regulators did as they were told. Josh had already lost so much blood and was so close to losing consciousness that he barely made a sound when they pulled him off the blood-stained posts.

'Josh!' Zimmerman sobbed as his son was laid down on the ground. 'Say something. Who did this?'

The young man's eyes rolled up into his head and he opened his mouth as if to speak but all that came out was a mouthful of blood.

'They… they cut out his tongue,' one of the Regulators said in a horrified tone.

Zimmerman's eyes widened, the look of horror temporarily overshadowing the intense pain he already felt.

Another Regulator came running in from the darkness.

'Did you find anything?' Caleb asked.

'It was too dark,' the Regulator said, 'but they were heading north. In the direction of the old nightclub.'

'The Blades,' Caleb concluded softly.

'The Blades?' Zimmerman repeated. 'Was it them, son? Tell me! I'll… I'll kill them all.'

Josh opened his eyelids just a sliver, but it was clear he was incapable of giving even an affirming nod or disconfirming shake of his head by this point. Zimmerman wailed again and buried his head into his son's blood-soaked chest. His cries rang out into the night.

* * *

><p>Albert deactivated the replay button on the holodisk of the Regulator transmissions that now lay in his hands, his mind replaying what might have transpired the night of Zimmerman's son's death. Was that how it had happened? Had the Regulators staged everything? Had they all been in on it or had some of them honestly not known Caleb's plans? It didn't change that they were <em>all <em>complicit in the extortion of the people of Adytum, of course. The only thing it changed was just how much horror Albert would allow himself to feel about the state of humanity here in the Boneyard. Could an entire group of people bring themselves to endorse such a heinous crime and then put the blame on someone else? A momentary flashback to the Khan's base reminded him of the brutalized woman. He could see her face again, just before Garl blew her head off. Then the scene changed in his mind's eye and he was looking at a young man, impaled on sharp metal posts, his body wracked with pain as he tried vainly to push himself off.

'Where did you get that disk?' an unfamiliar voice coming from the doorway demanded. Albert had his gun drawn by the time he turned. Standing on the threshold was a young woman, probably in her mid twenties. In her black leather outfit (jacket, pants, and boots), bright green mohawk, ear and eyebrow piercings, violet-colored lips, and eye shadow (Albert couldn't even begin to guess where she had managed to find cosmetic products in the wasteland), she fit his movie-inspired image of a ganger far more closely than anyone else he had met so far. She had a pretty, if somewhat narrow, face with well-defined cheekbones and Albert found himself thinking that if not for the mohawk and her violet lips, he would probably have found her more attractive – the whole punk look didn't work that well for him.

As for her attire, it covered most of her body. The only parts of her body that were visible were heavily tanned: her face, her arms, bared all the way to the shoulder, and her plunging neckline (courtesy of her jacket deliberately zipped down low to expose her a fair amount of cleavage). Her sun-kissed skintone reminding Albert somewhat of Sammael and some of the other scavs he had seen in Adytum. Albert could see no weapons except for a bandoleer of five throwing knives, very similar in design to the ones Natalia had taken off Decker's corpse back in the Hub.

'Maybe you should tell me who _you_ are before I go revealing my sources,' Albert suggested. 'That and how you got here.'

'I'm Katja and I live out here,' she said, 'though I don't see how that matters to an outsider.'

'I'm Albert,' he replied, then chuckled at her words. He lowered his weapon, but kept it at the ready. 'Outsider, huh? That obvious?'

'Your armor's different than what the Gun Runners wear.'

'Don't forget Caleb – that Regulator in Adytum.'

'You've been inside Adytum?'

'Just long enough for Caleb to tell us what he wanted us to do in order for us to _stay _inside.'

Katja nodded knowingly. 'That's Caleb and the Regulators for you – paranoid and reclusive.'

'Speaking of paranoid, you weren't all that friendly yourself when we started this conversation.'

'Look, ninety-percent of the people in this city fall into one or more of the three categories – rapists, murderers, or thieves. I'm a thief, and you actually seem polite, so that makes me wonder, okay? Call it a survival instinct.'

'Do rapists or murderers tend to be polite?'

'Up until a point…'

'Well, we're not from around here, so I don't think we count.'

'Guess I can't argue with that logic. And you definitely aren't one of those gangland shiv-shovers… but you haven't answered my first question.'

'The leader of the Blades gave it to us.'

'From what I overheard, it sounded pretty damning for the Regulators.'

'It is. What's _your _interest in it?'

'I used to be one of Sammael's scavs. Then Caleb and his Regulators slapped an ultimatum on us some months ago. We had to find the parts to repair their stupid hydroponic farms or move out in six months.'

'If they do that, how are they ever going to find the parts?'

'Exactly. We're the best at what we do. Caleb's just on a power trip. He thinks there'll always be people desperate enough to want entrance into Adytum that they'll be willing to go on scav expeditions. And there _will _be. They'll just all be dead at the hands of the deathclaws on their first week scavving.'

'So how'd you end upout here?'

'I told Sammael I was sick and tired of the Regulators thinking they can push us around just because they're the ones with the guns. I said we should just leave before they could have the pleasure of kicking us out. There are still tons of places in the Boneyard that have yet to be scavved.'

'And he said no.'

'He said we needed a secure homebase – that we wouldn't survive on our own. So I moved out.'

'And you've been out here on your own since then?'

'Been regretting it ever since, actually. I hate to admit it but Sammael was half-right. As just one person, I can't do squat. I find enough food and other stuff to last for a day or two, then I've got to go scavving again without anyone to back me up.'

'Why didn't you just move somewhere else, like the Hub.'

'I've heard of that place, some sort of trading center, right? But I've never been out of the Boneyard. The only thing that's worse than living here by yourself is trying to cross the wasteland by yourself. I've heard of people being chased down in the open wasteland by a pack of giant mantises or a wandering deathclaw just because they had nowhere to hide. At least here you have places you can hole up in when you need shelter.'

'What about the Blades? I'm sure they'd have taken you in.'

'They're living on borrowed time. They live at the mercy of the Regulators. They just don't know it. I've seen the Regulators raid Blade territory every now and then and just take people away. The Blades try and stop it but they can't really do anything. The last thing I'd want is to wake up in the middle of the night with Regulator hands around my throat. They know who I am. I'd be the first person they throttle.'

'Well, it's different now. The Blades and the Gun Runners have a little arrangement going on.'

It took Katja awhile to piece together all the parts but when she did, her eyes widened. 'Is that what this is all about? The holodisk, this deathclaw business… You're going to… attack Adytum!'

'Not Adytum; the Regulators.'

'Why? Did you know the Zimmerman boy? Is this revenge?'

'I'm not saying another word until I figure out your stakes in the whole thing.'

'Look, I have friends in Adytum. If I heard what I thought I heard when you were replaying that holodisk, then my friends need to know.'

'Well, Sammael gave us one of his radios. We'll be sure to let him and the other scavs know what we found.'

'It's not just them. I made a few close friends over at the Library – they call themselves the "Followers of the Apocalypse".'

'Wait, you know the people over in the Library?'

'Yeah, my best friend's there – a woman named Nicole. She's my number one source of juicy information from all over the Boneyard.'

'How does she know so much? Do the Regulators let her leave Adytum?'

'Well anyone can go _out _whenever they wish – at their own risk, of course. It's the coming back in that's tricky. The Regulators know everyone who leaves and tries to come in. If you're not on their good list, that's it. At best you get turned away. At worst…'

'That's going to change soon.'

'Listen. If you're going to be taking down the Regulators permanently, I want in. I have too many friends in there to just leave it up to people I don't know.'

'Well, then. Aside from your low vote of confidence, it seems we may be of use to one another. See, we can't just go in guns blazing. In order to ensure that the townspeople of Adytum don't think _they're _the ones being targeted, we need to reveal the Regulators for what they are. Publicly.'

'And to do that you need people to hear that recording.' Katja pointed at the holodisk, still sitting in Albert's hands.

He nodded. 'Caleb won't let us in unless we have both the parts he's been getting you scavs to search for _and _the head of the leader of the Blades. Obviously, after hearing what was on that disk, the second option is out of the question. So… we need someone who can get in and play it—'

'Over the PA system.' Katja looked impressed.

'And since you've lived there, maybe they'll let you back in if you told them you recanted.'

'Hate to break it to you, but Caleb doesn't take kindly to recanters.'

'Maybe if you had the final missing part for the hydroponic farms…'

'You have them?' Katja said in surprise.

'According to Sammael, one of the scavs found it and was making his way back through this area when the deathclaws got to him. In fact, I'll have to check with those Gun Runners who were cleaning up this area of bodies. I noticed a few half-eaten human corpses. Maybe one of them had it on him.'

'Maybe I should go check.'

'They're around here somewhere. So is Razor, actually. If you're interested in helping out, you should talk to her.'

'Alright, I'll talk to you later, Albert.'

'One more thing,' he said, as she was about to leave. 'You haven't answered my question about what brought you here, and I mean right here to this cinema.'

'Are you kidding? You guys made enough noise to wake the dead.'

'I'd have expected most people or animals would run at the sound of that much firepower being unloaded all at once.'

'When you've been living out here on your own, trying to avoid being hunted by deathclaws, you tend to welcome man-made noises.'

'Sounds like you could do with having some people at your back again.'

'Maybe. But I won't find that in Adytum. Not anymore. Not now that I've gotten the taste of what it's like to live outside a double-fence, I don't really want to go back in there, not for good at any rate. I want to… I don't know… see the world outside of this place.'

'Maybe you will one day,' said Albert. 'I'm sure there are like-minded people in Adytum. And once the Regulators are gone, who _knows _how things will change.'

Once Katja had left, Albert looked back at the holodisk in his hands. He was about to hit the replay button again when he sensed movement. Emerging from an old storage room where he had laid her down to rest, Natalia stepped out into the lobby to join him.

'Y'know, eavesdropping isn't a very good habit,' he told her.

'I used to do it back in the Vault all the time,' she said. 'Besides, it's not like I could help it. You two were practically talking just outside the doorway.'

'You found the spare suit,' Albert commented. Her earlier suit had been too badly eaten away by the corrosive chemicals to salvage. Fortunately, her skin hadn't suffered more than mild redness when they had gotten it off her. Now she was dressed in the new suit, over which she was now in the process of donning her combat armor padding.

'I did. Who…?'

'Relax. It was Razor,' Albert replied, anticipating Natalia's question about who had changed her out of her old suit. As attached as Natalia was to Tycho and as young as she was, at the end of it all, she _was _still a woman with a very well-toned athletic body. Albert couldn't help but feel some physical attraction to her. That meant that the last thing he needed was to put himself into a compromising situation. 'That was quite a feat you pulled off last night,' he said to break the awkward silence.

'How long was I out?'

Albert looked down at his PIPBoy. 'About two-and-a-half hours.'

'Is she…?'

'Who?

'The mother. The deathclaw.'

'She's dead.'

Natalia nodded silently. 'Her eggs?'

'I took care of them.' Natalia bit her lip, imagining the sight of the auditorium filled with broken eggshells and lifeless mini deathclaw bodies. 'You amazed us all, me most of all. And to think I'd been worried I'd made a mistake letting you go in there alone.'

'That _was _a pretty bad lapse in judgment,' Natalia agreed somewhat facetiously. 'I was actually kind of surprised you let me go in alone after all the stuff I'd been saying earlier about Stone and all.'

Albert smiled. 'Do you remember the first time we actually spoke to each other, in your room with Theresa?'

Natalia made a face at the memory, recalling the poor timing of her words about the prospect of having sex with him. 'I try to forget.'

'Back then, you were just a kid to me, and I treated you like one. But that's changed. If I haven't said it before, I'll say it now for the record: you are _the _most talented, capable person I've ever met, Natalia, and I've grown to trust in your abilities. When you came up to me and said you were heading in there alone, my first impulse was to trust that you knew what you were doing.'

'But you regretted it right after.'

'_That _was the lapse in judgment. If I'd gone in there with you, I'd have been lizard food. No doubt about that. You did what no one else here could. Not only did you lure out the largest, meanest looking deathclaw alive, you also single-handedly took down three _other_ deathchlaws. You did well. _More _than well.'

Natalia couldn't help but smile in a mixture of pride and embarrassment at Albert's praise. 'Actually, I did even better,' she added coyly. 'Want to know why?'

'Tell me,' said Albert.

'Over there.' She pointed at the drawer beneath the ticketing booth counter where she had concealed the CPU. 'I think that's what Sammael was looking for.'

'Well, it looks like we've found the last piece on the board,' he said, impressed. He proceeded to inspect the device. 'If you don't mind me asking,' he asked as he looked the CPU over. 'What caused you to change your mind?'

'About?'

'About facing the deathclaws. About insisting on doing it alone.'

'Earlier you told me to keep it together.'

'I did. What about it?'

'That was the only way I knew how – the only way I knew no one else would get hurt.'

'That was a dumb thing to do,' Albert scolded before his expression grew gentler. 'But I think it was also the only way we're all still alive here.'

* * *

><p>Zimmerman lay in bed, tossing and turning, the nightmares of his son's death still fresh in his mind, though it had already been weeks. While his body was drenched in sweat, his mind replayed the night of the murder over and over again. The scream kept coming back. Again and again. Growing louder each time the dream repeated itself until finally…<p>

Zimmerman leapt from his bed at the sound of a scream that lingered even as his nightmares receded.

'Still dreaming,' he tried to convince himself but, as real as the dreams had felt, there was always something about waking up that made one realize one had only been dreaming all along. And he could tell the difference now between those nightmares and the scream he heard now. It was coming from outside. The sense of déjà vu that hit him came closely accompanied by a growing sense of dread.

Zimmerman raced outside, barefoot and still in his nightdress, stopping only to grab his magnum before exiting. History seemed to be repeating itself. Outside the starry sky seemed otherworldly. He looked to the south. Was it the guard posts again? No. The screaming continued but came from… the north! Zimmerman started running.

He reached the gate to find several Regulators crowded around something near the entrance of the barracks. It was only when Zimmerman got closer that he realized it was another Regulator, on his knees, one hand clutching his other wrist, groaning in pain, shock, and horror. But where was… his hand? Another two Regulators came running out of the barracks to find out what had happened.

'Watch it!' one of the Regulators already at the scene warned the two. But it was too late. One of them stumbled over something in the darkness. Zimmerman drew closer and then realized, with horror, that it was the injured Regulator's missing hand, sheared off cleanly at the wrist.

'Keith, tell us!' one of the Regulators was saying to the injured man. 'What happened? How did this—'

'Take cover you idiots! We're under attack!' Zimmerman heard Caleb's voice booming as he arrived on the scene, dressed in his full combat armor and sporting his AK-112.

'Attack?' one of the Regulators said, sounding confused. 'What kind of weapon can—'

From across the street, a small muted explosion sounded. Everyone saw the plumes of the ignition as the explosive warhead burst towards them from a rocket launcher in the window of the closest building outside the gate. It went through the wire mesh of the gate with ease, struck the ground less than three feet from the growing crowd of Regulators, and detonated.

The loudest explosion Zimmerman had ever heard rocked the northern side of town. The gate was blasted off its hinges and, as the debris began to settle, all Zimmerman could see was the blood and body parts littering the area.

'What the… fuck,' he mouthed, horrified, as he surveyed the scene of the carnage.

'What are you waiting for?! Return fire!' Caleb shouted to his Regulators, taking cover and shooting returning fire through the gaping hole that had once been Adytum's main gate. More Regulators came running, some from other parts of the town, some from within the barracks. The night came alive with the sounds of battle.

'It's the Blades,' Zimmerman said softly to himself, still stunned by what he had just seen. 'They've come back to finish the job.' At first the fear still held firmly onto him, but as the dreams of his son's death came back to haunt him once more, fear and trepidation gave way to hate and rage. '_You won't take me without a fight_!' he screamed and drew his gun, ready to charge into battle with the other Regulators.

He had only made it a few feet when someone tackled him to the ground.

'Are you crazy?!' It was the voice of a woman. Zimmerman looked closely at the woman's face and realized it was one of Sammael's scavs – Katja. Hadn't she left town months ago? Why had the Regulators let her back in, especially when she was such a mouthy bitch?

'Yes, I'm fucking crazy!' he shouted back, recovering from the shock of being thrown to the ground. 'They killed my son! I'm going to give them all the fucking crazy I have!'

'Wait!' Katja said, grabbing his arm as he tried to make for the gate again. Stray bullets were hitting the ground around them, and Katja began dragging him to the cover of the nearest building – the town hall.

'Let me go!' Zimmerman snarled.

'Not. Until you he hear this,' she said.

'Hear what?' he demanded, temporarily relaxing his stance and allowing her to pull him to the safety of his home. She brought him upstairs to the where the PA system control panel was housed. As he watched, she took out a holodisk from her pocket, hit the loop button, then set it to play in front of the microphone. Reaching over the control panel, she flicked the switch that turned on the PA equipment. The town speakers located all over Adytum crackled to life.

'This,' she repeated.

At first, the fighting continued, nearly drowning out the sounds being played over the speakers, but when the recording of two Regulators talking to each other about Zimmerman's son began playing all across town at full volume, even Caleb stopped for a moment.

'… We've apprehended the Zimmerman boy trying to infiltrate our perimeter again…' said the voice belonging to Regulator Cravotta.

Zimmerman didn't think he could be any more horrified in one night but as he heard Caleb give the order to murder his son and mutilate his body, Zimmerman's mind once again began replaying all those nightmares he had been having – of someone dying from impalement. The only difference was that this time, the nightmares had a sinister beginning attached to them.

'… Eliminate him and make it look like the Blades did it. Understand?...'

As he continued to listen to the recording, Zimmerman began to shake violently. Katja took a step back, her eyes widening with fear as the mayor's anger, already intense as it was from the attack at the gate, began to shift its focus from the Blades to the true perpetrators.

'… I want it messy. Impale him on the guard posts out front—oh, and cut out his tongue so he can't talk while we "attempt" to save his sorry ass…'

Zimmerman's face had turned so red by this point that Katja was starting to worry that he might drop dead on the spot from sheer hate.

'The Blades are coming to help,' she said, trying to get him to take his mind of Caleb. 'They know we've been lied to and want to help remove the Regulators. We just need to take cover and—'

'Bastards…' Zimmerman hissed, clenching his fists to the point that his knuckles were turning white. 'Fucking bastards.' Tears were beginning to stream from his eyes. Zimmerman was so red-in-the-face that Katja half-expected the tears to vaporize into steam.

Watching the mayor growing gradually crazier with insane anger, she began to wonder if this plan of Albert and Natalia's had been such a good idea after all. She had certainly expected the mayor to be overwhelmed by the revelation of his son's true killers, but this reaction was… not anywhere close to normal. There had been no other option, of course; the people had needed to know what the Regulators really were like, and it had needed to be done at once so the Regulators wouldn't get wise about their loss of credibility. But even so…

'Fucking bastards!' Zimmerman growled, his voice growing louder. His hand gripped his gun even more tightly as he pulled free of Katja's grasp – hard enough that she actually staggered to regain her balance. '_Fucking bastards!_' he bellowed as he raced out of the doorway.

* * *

><p>Caleb knew things had gone to hell the moment he heard the first few familiar words of the transmission played over the town speakers. It would be too late to reach the PA system in time before his own damning orders were replayed over the air. But he still wanted to know who was responsible for this treachery and how they had gotten hold of that recording in the first place.<p>

A laser blast narrowly missed his face, burning a hole in the building across the street behind him. Caleb returned fire with a few bursts from his rifle. He didn't hear the sound of footsteps from behind until the gunshot, fired almost at point blank range, took the head off the Regulator just beside him.

'I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!' Zimmerman screamed as he turned the barrel of his gun to Caleb.

Caleb threw himself to the ground as the gun went off. A chunk of the wall behind which he had been taking cover disintegrated from the .44 round. Zimmerman corrected his aim and pulled the trigger again, but this time the weapon clicked empty. That didn't stop Zimmerman. After pulling the trigger a few more times and finally realizing there were no bullets left, Zimmerman charged straight for Caleb, intent on bludgeoning him to death. Still lying on the ground, Caleb fired a burst from his rifle. The bullets hit Zimmerman in the ankle, chewing up the muscle and cartilage. Zimmerman tripped and fell on his face. But only for a second. As if the pain didn't even register, he looked up at Caleb, his face a mask of livid rage, grief, and now even madness.

Caleb calmly got to his feet even as the enraged mayor crawled towards him. 'I guess this means we're done with you, old man,' he said, then pulled the trigger of his rifle once more. Zimmerman jerked once as the bullet entered his brain, then was still.

Caleb turned his attention back to the gate. There were dead Regulators everywhere. He turned back to the town streets only to see infighting happening everywhere. The body count was already beginning to build up, some belonging to the townspeople, who had been gunned down by his Regulators, some belonging to his Regulators, who had been bludgeoned to death by whatever the townspeople could get their hands on.

The people of Adytum had never been clueless about the Regulators' extortion racket. Few of them actually liked their 'protectors'. Even Caleb had known that. But he had also known that the one thing that had kept them back had been the security against outside threats that only his people could provide – that and the underlying presumption that the Regulators, at the end of all things, were still people like them, except maybe with more power to abuse.

But the broadcast had dispelled that notion. It was the catalyst; the trigger. And of course it didn't help Caleb or his Regulators that the transmission kept repeating itself over and over, fanning the rising flames of dissent. He had to stop it. It had to have been an inside job. Probably Sammael or one of his scavs – they hadn't been too happy when he'd given them hell over failing to find the missing part for the hydroponic farms not too long ago. Well, first he'd kill whoever had activated the loudspeakers, then he'd come back and kill whoever was attacking his town, then he'd execute all those miserable townspeople who had dared lift a finger against their protectors. They were all liabilities anyway – weak, complacent, complaining cattle. The Regulators were better off without them.

Caleb ran for the town hall. As he reached the steps, one of the scavs – Katja – blocked his way. Caleb recognized her. She was the scav who had left Adytum in a huff. He remembered calling after her that she would live to regret it. And, as it seemed, he had been right!

The Regulators at the gate had told him that they had been planning on forbidding her entry until she had produced the missing part for the hydroponic farms and expressed her sincere apologies for ever having abandoned Adytum all those months ago. Thinking she had been truly contrite andw as ready to contribute to Adytum once more, the fools had let her in.

But now, as it turned out, Caleb could see that it had all been a ruse. _She _had been the one who activated the PA system. Well, he was going to have to do something about that.

As he got closer, Caleb saw that Katja was armed with nothing but a couple of throwing knives. One of them was already held between her thumb, index, and middle fingers, ready to be thrown at a moment's notice.

Caleb laughed. Sure, she was good, very good even; he had seen her practice with her knives before. Against any of his other Regulators she would have posed a serious threat. But with his combat armor, Caleb knew that he had the best protection against bladed weapons of anyone else living in Adytum. Confidently, he raised his weapon and fired off a burst.

Realizing her knives weren't going to do much, Katja leapt aside as a spray of bullets filled the doorway where she had stood. As she hit the ground, she corrected her aim and threw one of the knives, hoping to hit one of the less protected joints of his armor. Unfortunately, he was just too well-shielded. The knife bounced noisily off his armor and landed harmlessly on the ground.

Caleb used her momentary immobility to close the distance. She tried to roll away as her fingers reached for a second knife but he was too quick. A heavy, booted foot caught her in the gut, knocking the wind out of her and lifting her bodily off the ground. She landed with a groan and, before she could react, he had brought the butt of his assault rifle down hard on the back of her head, knocking her out instantly.

Caleb realized he could have just shot her, of course. But traitors like her needed to be made an example of. Maybe he'd impale her just like the Zimmerman boy. Just as soon as he got Adytum back under control…

Savoring the thought, Caleb raced up the steps in the town hall towards the PA control panel. He burst into the room to find a holodisk set on loop, playing its copy of the radio exchange between himself and Cravotta into the PA microphone.

Something tapped against the side of his helmet. He had barged into the room so suddenly that he had forgotten to check his blindspot.

'Drop the weapon.' It was Albert's voice, calm and confident. That no good conniving bastard! He should have known this man was behind it all. Caleb dropped his rifle, swearing silently. The pressure against the side of his helmet forced him to move into the center of the room.

'How did you sneak in here?' he demanded. 'The fighting's still going on at the gates.'

'Oh, I just came in through the south entrance. When was the last time you Regulators were attacked? It's as if none of your men know how to hold a position. When the fighting started, it seemed like _all _of them abandoned their posts and headed to the northern gate. No one was even around to hear when I blasted open the locks on the southern entrance.'

'You underestimate us,' Caleb retorted, trying to buy time for his reinforcements to arrive. He knew at least one would be on his way soon. 'My Regulators are the most heavily-armed group this side of the Gun Runners. Do you honestly think one rocket launcher is going to make a difference?'

'Who said anything about _one_?' said Albert.

At that moment, footsteps sounded from the open doorway. Albert shifted so Caleb was between him and the newcomer. It was another Regulator. This one hadn't had time to put his armor on. He carried only a pistol.

'Cravotta,' Caleb said with some relief. 'Took you long enough.'

The one called Cravotta raised his weapon, trying to get a clear shot at Albert. 'I was… busy,' he said.

Albert peeked around Caleb's head at Cravotta. 'Forgot to zip your fly on the way out,' he said. His voice was still calm. Too calm for Caleb. It was as if he had anticipated this turn of events and planned for it.

Cravotta seemed like he was about to look down, then thought better of it. He gave a snirk. 'Think I'm an idiot?'

'If you have to ask…'

Cravotta's confidence faltered for a moment. Then he smiled again. 'I'll handle you first,' he said.

'Better hurry,' Albert taunted. 'Before she gets here.'

'She?' Cravotta said.

'Look out!' Caleb yelled as another figure in combat armor appeared behind the doorway.

Cravotta felt the cold steel of a gun barrel press up against the back of his skull. Then a thin hole opened up in the middle of his forehead as a laser beam cut through his brain and into the ceiling. A figure dressed in combat armor just like Caleb's pushed Cravotta's body aside. In the newcomer's right hand was some kind of high-tech energy weapon.

The unidentified newcomer reached for the helmet on its head and pulled it smoothly off in one motion revealing long black hair and a familiar face. Caleb's eyes widened with shock and a tinge of fear.

'You,' he said accusingly, surprised at how well-armed she was.

'Your not the only one with access to high-grade weapons and armor anymore,' said Razor.

The radio transmission between Caleb and Cravotta was still being transmitted over the PA microphone. She turned her eyes sadly to the radio, walked over and stopped the player. By now, the whole town would have woken up and heard the news. There was no reason the nightmarish execution order had to be burned _that _deep into everyone's psyche. She, especially, had heard it enough to last a lifetime.

'Everything alright up there?' came Natalia's voice from downstairs.

'We're fine. We just figured out how to turn off the speakers,' Albert called down. 'Take Dogmeat and check up on Katja's friends over at the Library – make sure they're all okay. Razor and I'll be down in a minute.'

They waited until the sound of Natalia's footsteps faded. Then it was just Albert, Razor, and Caleb.

'You killed Josh,' Razor said, her voice was steady. She had cried her tears. Now she was done with grieving. Now was the reckoning.

'He was weak, incompetent, and a troublemaker' Caleb spat. 'He deserved it.'

Razor nodded at Albert who grabbed hold of Caleb's own helmet and yanked it off. Now both Razor and Caleb were unmasked.

'You butchered him,' Razor said quietly. 'So now I'm going to butcher you.' From her belt, she pulled out a long stiletto blade.

'No!' Caleb yelped in horror as he jerked away from Albert and the gun at his head. Albert swiftly changed his grip and pistol-whipped Caleb hard on the back of his head. Caleb staggered. Albert kicked him hard from behind, causing him to collapse.

Knowing what was awaiting him, Caleb struggled frantically with inhuman speed fueled by adrenaline to get up and escape. He had made it three steps to the balcony, intending to throw himself out of the window, when a bolt of plasma from Albert's plasma pistol struck him in the back of his leg. Caleb's entire knee melted away almost instantly. With his right leg now detached from the knee down, Caleb missed his next step completely and smashed face first into the ground. Blade was on him in an instant. Her weapon found its way in front of his terrified eyes. Grabbing his hair, she yanked his head so he could see her out of the corner of his eye.

'You had Josh impaled. I'm just returning the favor.'

Caleb opened his mouth and gave half a scream of horror before the stiletto filled the gap, narrowly missed the top of his cervical column, and finally pushed its way out of the back of his head.

Albert shut his eyes. _We've become monsters_, he thought to himself. _But maybe that's what we need to be to get the job done_. He made no move to stop her.

* * *

><p>'Kind of an ironic end, don't you think?' Natalia commented as someone dragged Caleb's body out into the street and lay him beside the corpses of the other Regulators. She took a step closer and examined the hole at the back of his neck and the blood seeping from his still gaping mouth. It didn't take much for her to surmise what had happened.<p>

'Wish it was _me _who stuck that blade in there,' said Katja. 'Bastard knocked me out cold.'

'We need to get you a better weapon than those knives,' said Albert.

Katja shook her head. 'I was never that big into guns.'

'What happens the next time you run into another Caleb?'

'Most people don't have access to high-grade armor like that. Caleb's the first in the Boneyard I've seen with that kind of protection.'

'And now there's myself and Natalia and Razor. You may really want to consider upgrading your arsenal.'

'Yeah, whatever. If you saw me with these knives at work, you'd think twice about asking me to learn how to use a different weapon.'

Albert shook his head with a small smile. 'Listen, once things have settled down, Natalia and I will probably head on over to the Library. Maybe we'll see you there?'

'What's _your _interest with the Followers?'

'We think they have similar goals as ours. If that's true, we're hoping there might be a way we can help each other out.'

'Help each other do what exactly?'

'We'll give you the whole lowdown once we get there. I promise.'

Once Katja had left, Natalia brought Albert's attention back to Caleb's corpse and the killing blow. 'What happened with Caleb?'

'We got careless. He snuck into the control room when our backs were turned,' Albert lied. 'Nearly put a bullet in my head if Razor hadn't managed to wrest his weapon from him. They got into a scuffle and…' Albert's voice trailed away. He didn't need to finish the sentence.

'I guess he deserved it, after what he did, but…' Natalia leaned in closer and whispered. 'Do you think that was what Razor had planned all along?'

Albert shrugged. 'Maybe. Does it matter?'

'Albert!' Natalia said, slightly shocked. 'It matters because Razor and her Blades are now going to be running Adytum. What if they're just as bad as the Regulators?'

'They won't be,' said Albert. 'This was just Razor getting… closure. After what Caleb ordered his men to do, can you blame her?' Natalia was silent. 'What if he had ordered the same thing to be done to Tycho? What would _you _have done?'

Natalia shuddered. 'I don't want to think about that.'

'Don't be too quick to judge her,' said Albert. 'If Caleb had given that order against any one of our own group, I'd have done worse to him.' Natalia stared at him but Albert didn't return her glance. He seemed unfazed by what he had just said. He gazed over at the corpses of the casualties of the fight. One pile belonged to the Regulators but the other belonged to unfortunate townsfolk who had either gotten caught in the crossfire between the Regulators and the Blades or who had died in their own attacks against the Regulators. Already Sammael and his scavs were beginning to strip the Regulator corpses for anything useful they could get their hands on, whether it was ammunition, their armor, or even personal items. It wasn't graverobbing. Not really…

Not knowing what else to say, Natalia left Albert to his thoughts. As the sound of her departure faded away, it was soon replaced by the thumping of more boot-clad feet approaching. Even with his eyes still fixated on the corpses, Albert could still guess the identity of his new visitor.

'I heard what the two of you were talking about,' said Razor, standing off to his side and just slightly behind him. 'Thank you for understanding.'

'We must do all we can to protect those we love,' Albert stated simply. He turned and looked her in the eye, his voice growing harder. 'And if we fail, we have to make sure those who were responsible pay the price.'

'Exactly,' said Razor, relieved to find someone who seemed to understand her so well. For a brief few seconds, both of them stood there without saying anything else. Razor was the first to break the silence. 'Albert, would you… would you like to go inside and get a drink. I sure could use one after that… unpleasantness.'

It took Albert awhile to respond. 'Sure,' he said. 'I think I could use one as well.'

* * *

><p>Natalia sat by the side of the road with Dogmeat, watching Albert follow Razor into the town hall. She didn't feel that letting those two talk was a good idea. Razor was too much a denizen of the wasteland and Albert… Natalia was beginning to worry that he was once again heading in that direction. Dogmeat noticed Albert leaving as well and made to follow. Natalia held him back.<p>

'No, boy,' she said. 'I think that's a conversation we kids don't really want to hear.' Dogmeat sat back down beside her, fixing her with his intelligent canine eyes. 'Yeah, he hasn't had that much time for you lately, has he?' she said. 'He does that sometimes, y'know? One moment he's gentle and comforting, and being the leader we all respect, and then in the next… he's just this cold…' Natalia stopped herself from saying 'killer'. 'It must be something that triggers it… Any idea, boy?'

To her surprise, Dogmeat raised his paw and rested it on her knee. Natalia chuckled at the simple but heartwarming gesture. She shook his paw with her own hand. 'I guess this means we're officially friends now.' Natalia reached for her pack and pulled out her canteen and her one bowl, used for meals. 'And friends share their things,' she said as she poured some water in and set it in front of Dogmeat who gratefully lapped up the cool, thirst-quenching liquid. 'Maybe spending some time with that Razor woman will mellow him a little,' she said, gazing off into the distance. Dogmeat was too busy drinking to grace her with a response. She looked back down at him. 'We may be friends now, but I'm still going to scrub that thing clean once you're done.'

* * *

><p>'How do you do it?' Razor asked as she and Albert sat in the lounge nursing glasses of whiskey that they had found in the town hall pantry.<p>

'Do what?' asked Albert.

'Cope with loss.'

'I haven't really lost anyone,' came the reply. 'Not really.'

'You have,' Razor insisted gently. 'Why else did you stand by and let me do it? Why did you say what you did to Natalia and to me earlier?'

'My problems are nothing,' he said, still trying to dismiss her question. 'You've gone through far worse.'

'And yet you've empathized so completely with me,' she continued.

'Comes with being a leader, I guess.'

'There's more to it than that,' she persisted. 'Who did you lose?'

Albert sighed, trying to decide how much he should tell her. He frowned as the urge to just let everything all out suddenly welled up inside him. 'Ev… Everyone,' he croaked. He took a large gulp of the whiskey so that just in case his eyes started to water, it would seem as if the alcohol was to blame.

'Why?' she asked gently.

'Because it's the only way I know how to deal with what I know and what I've done… How do _you _do it? How do you embrace the ugliness of the world and then turn around to the people who follow you and pretend nothing's different?... I tried once. Not too long ago. I thought I could go back… purge myself of all the things I've seen and done and start over… make myself forget…'

'But it never lets go, does it?'

Albert shook his head with a rueful smile. 'Once the taint of the wasteland sticks to you, it never really comes off. It pulls you back into its embrace…'

'But if that's the case, why doesn't everyone face that problem?' Razor's question was as much to herself as it was to Albert. 'Your friend, Natalia… She heard the transmission just like you did. But she doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would have allowed me to give that pig what he deserved. Had she been there, I'm almost sure she would have tried to stop me.'

Albert shrugged. 'She's better than me – stronger than me. When the world beats her down, she falls hard. But then she just gets up again, shrugs it off, and keeps on going. But people like me… we just hunch over and bear the new burden atop the old ones. I'm coming to realize that people like me don't break… not totally… but we bend and twist in the worst possible way.'

'People like _us_,' Razor corrected him. It was her turn to sigh. 'Others come to us for leadership and guidance but maybe _we're_ the ones who are lost and wandering.'

'I'll drink to that,' said Albert, reaching over with his glass.

Razor laughed. 'That's got to be the most depressing toast I've ever made.' She clinked glasses with his anyway.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Albert and Natalia made their way to the heart of Adytum. Here stood the great Los Angeles Public Library, fortified and restored over several years, rising with a forbidding yet graceful presence. Perhaps it had not always given off such an impression back when Los Angeles was still in its prime before the War. But amidst the ruins of the City of Angels, the Library had somehow been preserved almost completely intact. The trees along the promenade had, of course, long since withered away due to the post-War fallout but everything else remained structurally intact. The place seemed to exude a sense of calm and serenity even amidst all the chaos that constituted the Boneyard. Standing in its shadow, Albert and Natalia felt a strange sense of peace.<p>

As they walked across the promenade towards the library, they noticed the two emblems attached to either side of the main doorway to the building, each one bearing the image of a cross within a circle. The emblems had almost definitely not been a part of the Library before the War, so Albert and Natalia surmised that its addition had been recent, likely when the Followers of the Apocalypse moved in.

Inside the Library, Albert, Natalia, and Dogmeat found themselves in a grand atrium that reached several stories to the highest point of the building. Numerous people were scattered around, mingling or, to both Albert and Natalia's surprise, actually using the Library in the way it had originally been intended. Dozens of people they passed were actually poring over books from the hundreds of bookshelves all over the building. Strange that this was a library where actual physical copies of books had still been stored even up till the time of the War. Albert and Natalia had formerly been under the impression that practically every library in the former United States of America had been modernized, converting books in their physical form to either electronic or holodisk formats.

'Greetings.' came a friendly voice from behind them. They turned to find themselves facing a woman with long hair the same color as Katja's. Like Katja, she was wearing lipstick and eyeshadow, making her the second person in the entire wasteland (at least that Albert and Natalia had seen) who wore makeup. In a world devoid of its regular use, the cosmetic products really did make a huge difference. 'Welcome to the residence of the Followers of the Apocalypse. We're very glad you could join us,' the woman said cheerfully. 'We hope you've found our humble abode to your satisfaction.'

'You… were expecting us?' said Natalia.

'Of course,' said another voice. Katja appeared from an open doorway and walked up till she stood beside the other woman. Albert and Natalia couldn't help but stare at their identically colored hair. Katja smirked. 'If you think _that's _weird, you should have seen us a year ago when we were both sporting the same hairdo.'

'Or at least until we figured out only Katja could pull that look off,' the other woman finished. 'I'm Nicole.' She exchanged handshakes with both vault dwellers. 'Katja was telling me we might be having the same goals.'

'That's what weheard,' said Albert. 'How much do you know about the Children of the Cathedral?'

Nicole and Katja traded looks.

'Are you _with _them?' asked Nicole, concern and mistrust momentarily darkening her features.

Albert shook his head. 'Quite the opposite, actually. We think they may be in league withoutr enemies.'

'In that case, I can tell you that we know enough about them to be concerned,' said Nicole.

'In what way?' asked Albert.

'They _claim _to want peace, like us. But anyone who disagrees with them just disappears. Their Dark God is not what he seems, believe me.'

'How do you know that?'

'Call it instinct. We've seen Morpheus and the Nightkin and they don't look like peacemakers to us. _You've _probably seen them around. Their hospitals and message of peace make them attractive, but we know there's evil there.'

Albert raised a hand to stop her. 'Who's Morpheus and the Nightkin?'

'Morpheus is the Children's leader. The Nightkin… they're monsters, huge hulking creatures – personal servants to Morpheus.' Nicole shuddered.

'Super mutants?' Natalia asked.

'They're not like any ghoul _I've_ ever seen.'

Albert shook his head. 'The super mutants we're talking about are eight-foot-tall walls of muscle.'

'That certainly sounds like them,' said Nicole, 'but I'm not really sure if they're eight-feet-tall, since all you ever see of them is a large blur.'

'What do you mean?' asked Albert. 'The super mutants we've faced are anything but fast.'

'I meant they're invisible.'

'Say what?!' Natalia blurted.

'Well, not _totally_. But you can't really _see _them. All you see is this blurry outline. It's as if you took a huge piece of glass and looked through it at the objects on the others side.'

'That's certainly… differen't,' said Albert. 'And it's also clear that you know a whole lot more about the Children than we do.'

'And what's yourinterest in them specifically?'

'That's a bit of a story. Perhaps you could grace us with a tour of this building of yours as we talk...'

'As you wish,' said Nicole.

As Nicole led them through the enormous interior of the Library, Albert relayed to her their story and their mission, making sure to leave out any geographic identifiers as to Vault-13's location.

'So you believe these mutants are kidnapping people to add to their ranks and are using the Children of the Cathedral as their spies and recruiters?' Nicole said after Albert had given her their story.

'And it's possible that the Cathedral may be housing some of the stuff they use to turn people into super mutants,' Albert added.

'Well, I can't say for sure if the Cathedral really _does _have supplies of that virus, but there's certainly _something _going on there. A number of our spies have seen Nightkin coming in and out of the back room of the Children's temple. And when they go in, they sometimes don't come out for days at a time. There must be something important back there.'

'So you'll help us destroy them?' Albert asked hopefully.

Nicole sighed. 'As you've seen from this tour, we're not exactly fighters. We won't last in a head-to-head assault with the Nightkin. But there _is _something we can do for you. Go to the Cathedral and look for…' She paused and looked around to make sure no one was listening before dropping her voice to a whisper. 'Look for a woman named Laura. Tell her "the Red Rider is here." She'll alert our scouts in the area and they'll create a diversion if we can.'

'I guess that'll help get us in at least,' said Albert. 'But your people… you'll be sending them directly into the line of fire…'

'It's the best option we have. We've been spying on the Children for so long that they've become aware of our presence. They'll be on the look out for us. If they have their own spies in our midst, they'll know who we are. You may be the best chance we've had in months of actually finding out what's going on in there and stopping it.'

'They're looking for us too,' Natalia reminded Albert.

'If they were, we'd have known,' said Nicole. 'For the most part, the Children have been tasked with locating vulnerable groups of people for the Nightkin to kidnap. Aside from that, the only thing our spies have found is that they're on the lookout for a group of four people and a dog. They're supposed to be vault dwellers or som…' Nicole gave Dogmeat a second glance, then looked at them with widening eyes at the realization.

'Yeah, that's us,' Natalia affirmed. 'Although if we didn't set of any alarm bells when you saw us, maybe splitting our party into two really did work after all.'

'Even so, we should probably do something about changing our appearances before we head south,' said Albert.

'We still have our stash of hair dye from that scav operation I did a year ago,' Katja piped in suddenly. 'I'll help change your look!' Her enthusiasm for beauty products was quickly becoming obvious. 'And don't worry. All the cosmetics are preserved remarkably well. They work perfectly even though some of them are close to ninety-years old.'

'We're not limited to green are we?' asked Albert. 'We're trying _not _to stand out here.'

'I'll let you take your pick,' Katja gushed excitedly, temporarily losing the rough demeanor the wasteland had built into her over time. Whatever reservations she originally had maintained about Albert and Natalia vanished, if only for the moment.

Nicole shook her head amusedly as Katja grabbed Natalia's hand and pulled her towards where the cosmetics were stored. 'You should have seen both of us the day Katja found that treasure trove. After locating some old beauty magazines, we literally spent days experimenting on ourselves.'

'Natalia doesn't look all that keen on it,' Albert commented, watching as Katja dragged a bewildered Natalia towards what was probably her first experience with beauty products. Albert and Nicole kept their eyes on the two younger women until they turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

'As for you…' said Nicole.

'Please, no mascara,' Albert joked.

'I have someone here you might like to meet. Earlier you said you came from a Vault numbered "thirteen"?'

'I did,' Albert replied, wondering if revealing even just that had been too much.

'Do you happen to know someone called Talius?'


	27. Chapter 26: Anticipation

Short chapter. Btw, one of you (I will give a full accounting for all of you wonderful readers who made constructive comments that I ended up using in this novelization at the end) astutely pointed out that, two chapters ago, I had suggested that laser weapons are effective against metal armor. Dumb dumb dumb on my part. Both scientifically and science-fictionally, that should be the exact opposite. I have changed that.

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Anticipation**

'Okay, children,' said the old man standing on the large training mat. 'Today we will be going over some martial arts.' He looked out over his audience of about two dozen recruits. 'In close combat, the technique you use depends on your opponent's size, reach, and quickness. Some of this you can discern through visual appraisal. However, as we all know, looks can be deceiving. So, if given the opportunity, test your opponent. Don't rush your attack.' He turned to the one student who stood impatiently at the other end of the mat from him. 'Alright my little one,' he said. 'Try to hurt poor old gramps.'

Alex stood by the entrance of the training hall, next to the quartermaster, Michael, who also enjoyed watching the training sessions. Alex had already tried on several occasions to be directly included into the Brotherhood's training regime for initiates, but to no avail. Although he was now a member of the Brotherhood, the Elders had now put a complete hold on all training of new initiates. Rumors of the threat of the super mutant army had been growing and the Elders had chosen to concentrate all their resources on those initiates who were already far enough along in their training to make a difference in the event of an actual all-out war. Alex understood the Elders' concerns. Training a few fighters extremely well was better than giving mediocre training to a bunch of fighters. The Brotherhood wasn't just interested in winning, it was also interested in saving lives. Unfortunately for Alex, that meant that he was inevitably left out of most of the training.

He had made himself useful in the meantime, of course. The computers in the computer lab were free-to-use and he had been spending an average of six hours a day in fact learning all he could about the Brotherhood's history, the weapons and tactics it employed, and the enemies it faced in the wasteland.

During those times when he wasn't filling his brain with weapon statistics, offensive and defensive formations, and weaknesses of every variation of hostile creature that the Brotherhood knights and paladins had ever come across, Alex had made friends with one of the knights down below – a man named Kyle. Kyle had been so impressed with Alex's successful return from the Ancient Order that he had agreed to take Alex under his wing and teach him everything that he knew. With that knowledge and Kyle's guidance, Alex had begun to take on his own projects, first and foremost of which was trying to improve his plasma rifle, just as Albert had recommended.

Still, at the end of the day, it wasn't enough for Alex. Albert, Natalia, and Dogmeat were risking their lives trying to sneak behind enemy lines in order to find out what was going on with the super mutants in the south. Tycho, after having both alerted Maxson about the mutant base to the north and announced his tracking skills as a desert ranger, had gone off with several paladin scouts in an attempt to locate the base. All of Alex's friends were out there, in danger, actively doing something to accomplish the mission the Overseer of Vault-13 had assigned to them. Only Alex was left safely underground in the Brotherhood bunker, tinkering with equipment. For the first few days, he had reminded himself that he was doing some good, at least indirectly. But that hadn't changed the fact that he was the only one having it easy. It hadn't seemed or felt right and in the end, Alex had become determined to do all he could to be admitted on the field. He wanted… needed… to play a direct role in addressing the mutant threat. Being stuck under ground while his friends did their parts made him feel restless, trapped even.

And so, despite all the limitations imposed on him as a new initiate, he had made it his goal to prepare himself for full combat readiness with or without the Brotherhood's approval. He might not be allowed on the training mat or in the shooting range, but he sure as hell could watch and learn. Brother Thomas, the instructor in charge of close combat and physical training, was reputedly the best trainer the Brotherhood ever had and Alex planned to learn everything he could from him.

Turning his thoughts back to the anticipated fight on the training mat, Alex watched as the much younger initiate, probably no more than twenty-five, approached Thomas, his eyes paying particular attention to the old man's height and the length of his arms. For several seconds, the two fighters moved slowly around the training mat as they both made their own mental assessments of the other. Then the younger man's eyes brightened for a moment when he thought he saw an opening. He took one stride closer to the older man. Still Thomas remained motionless except for an almost imperceptible bending of the knees. The younger man lined up a punch and swung with all his might.

To everyone's surprise, Thomas sidestepped the blow with astounding ease. But instead of stopping there, he bent low and delivered a heavy swing to the initiate's gut. The initiate hit the ground hard, wheezing as he tried to regain his breath.

Thomas turned back to his audience. 'You see how he lost his balance? Overextending yourself leaves you open for a counter attack. Whenever you attack, be absolutely sure you do not overextend.'

'Why is overextending so bad?' another young man from the crowd asked, raising his hand. 'If you have the opportunity for a kill, shouldn't you go for it?'

'That's a lot to risk your life over,' Thomas replied sagely. 'Overextending leaves your inside vulnerable to a counter attack and puts you off balance. It doesn't matter that you're younger and more agile than your opponent. One little shove will land you right on your ass.' He helped the initiate back to his feet before, again, addressing his audience. 'Okay, let's give another young punk a try at gramps.'

A dozen hands went up. Thomas made a big show of looking over the raised hands until his gaze deliberately ended where Alex was standing. 'You,' he said.

'Uh… me?... Sir?' Alex said nervously.

'I've seen you standing there everyday for the past week,' said Thomas. 'I want to see if you've learnt anything.'

'But I haven't actually… had any practical training.'

Thomas shrugged away Alex's excuse. 'If I were an enemy, would you have any choice?'

Everyone's eyes were on Alex. From the crowd, he spotted a familiar face – Erwin, the initiate he and his friends had saved back in the Hub. Erwin beamed at him encouragingly. Realizing he couldn't back down without completely losing face, Alex reluctantly made his way to the training mat.

'Alright,' said Thomas. 'Let's see what you've learnt.'

As with the previous initiate, Thomas waited for his attack. Approaching the old man, Alex was finally able to understand the other initiate's reasoning for going all out in his attack earlier. Thomas just stood there, his guard seemingly let down. The only sign that he was prepared to defend himself was a slight bending of the knees. The distance was still too far for a quick attack but Alex knew that, logically, if he swung hard, he should be able to reach Thomas and knock him flat.

But that had been the other initiate's mistake, and Alex wasn't prepared to repeat it. He made a quick tentative strike but Thomas wasn't falling for it. Alex pulled back and began circling, trying to find an opening. Every now and then, he would come in with a quick jab or two but it was impossible to connect. Thomas knew when the jabs were just there to try and draw him out. And when Alex _did _actually try to make contact, Thomas merely deflected the light, tentative blows.

The temptation to go for a full swing was growing but Alex really didn't want to mess this up. He already faced some trust issues from some of the other initiates (and even some of the higher-ups) just because of his "outsider" status. He _needed _to make this work.

Again, Thomas seemed to leave himself open and, this time, Alex came up with a plan. He lined up a fully extended strike but only made it seem as if he was going in for the kill. He swung, but instead of extending all the way, pulled back at the last moment. Then, with his free arm, he delivered what he hoped would be the actual "killing" blow.

Thomas was expecting a ruse, however, and didn't take the bait. As Alex's second fist swung in, Thomas took a step back and grabbed for Alex's arm. For a split second, Alex didn't know what to do. It was too late to pull back; he knew doing so would throw him off balance. Quickly deciding on a different course of action instead of trying to regain his defensive position, Alex moved directly _into_ Thomas' reach. If he was close enough for Thomas to grab, it also meant that Thomas was close enough for him to grab. As Thomas grasped his arm, Alex latched hold of the older, heavier man's own arm in turn. At the same time, he twisted his body sharply ownwards into a crouch, hoping to find the leverage to throw the older man over his shoulder.

Contrary to his expectation, however, Thomas didn't resist. He went with the throw, but curled his body and followed through with the momentum. The extra force caught Alex by surprise and he was forced to release his grip in order to prevent himself from being pulled off his feet. Thomas rolled away and back to his feet. Alex turned to face Thomas again, this time with the entire length of the training mat in between them.

Thomas dropped his stance, signaling that the fight was over.

'Not bad,' he said, clearly impressed. 'That last move almost got me.' He looked over where Michael was standing. 'What's this initiate's status?' he called across the room.

Alex followed his gaze to Michael's position and noticed, for the first time, that another visitor had entered at some point without him knowing – likely while he had been fighting Thomas. Alex's heart skipped a beat. It was that pretty paladin, Jennifer – the one who normally guarded the doors to the main surface elevator. He had been trying to ask her out on a date for days now, and while her body language had seemed to suggest that the attraction he had for her was mutual, her reluctance to be seen talking for too long with an "outsider" (nevermind his recent official admission into the Brotherhood) had put a dampener on his efforts. So what was she doing here? Had she… come to watch him specifically?

'It says he's on knight-reserve,' Michael called back to Thomas after checking the nearby computer terminal stationed next to the door.

'Well,' said Thomas. 'He's got a quick and astute mind that would serve him well in the field. He knows tactics, this one. Either that or he's an extremely fast learner. Those talents would be a shame to waste. I'd like to make a request for him…' He paused and turned to Alex. 'What's your name, boy?'

'Uhh, Alex.'

'I'd like to make a request for Alex to be put on the full career track for knighthood. If Maxson okays it, I'd like for him to start joining the other knights-in-training tomorrow if possible.'

Alex was floored. Inside, his heart was thumping crazily. Just like that, he had gotten what he had been wanting all along – an opportunity to be useful. At least when Albert, Natalia, and Tycho got back, he could tell them that he'd actually done something worthwhile – something worthy of their own actions.

'Thank you Brother Thomas!' he said somewhat giddily.

'I hope you all noticed how _Brother _Alex,' he emphasized the word "Brother", 'did not over extend himself. He also tried to use my weight and bulkiness against me. That's something you _all _should take away from today's lesson.'

Thomas extended his hand to Alex who shook it gratefully. As he did so, Thomas pulled him in close so he could whisper into his ear. 'Try talking to Jennifer again,' he suggested. 'Perhaps by now she's learnt to start seeing you for what you are instead of what you're not.'

Alex walked off the mat, his mind in a daze, wondering if, somehow, the old man had done all this not only to give him a chance to join the other initiates but also to score points with Jennifer. If so, he had to give Thomas a whole lot more credit. That old man was a lot more perceptive than he had thought!

* * *

><p>'Someone once described you to me as a kind of "secular-humanist" group,' Albert said to Nicole as they headed down the steps to the basement of the Library. 'But the symbol out front… it's got some religious roots to it too.'<p>

'Well, many of us are inspired by religious teachings,' Nicole replied, 'but we hardly _worship _anything or anyone. All we do is follow a set of principles. We want to bring peace back to this wasteland. The world tends toward destruction, so we try to make a difference.'

'How?'

'We try to remind people why the Great War happened in the first place and help insure it won't ever happen again.'

It sounded somewhat idealistic to Albert. Although, as he caught himself thinking that, he realized that that was what _he _himself had been like only several months ago. The only difference was that after being in the wasteland for so long, he'd grown jaded.

'Have you been successful at all?' he asked.

'With some,' said Nicole. 'I'll admit, it's not the easiest job. But we never give up hope. And we never will, even _if _most live by the gun these days.'

'If you don't mind me asking, where did it all start? The Followers, I mean.'

'Far to the south, near the Great Glow. The times were hard, but we managed to survive alright at first. But as the violence increased, we came to realize that we were headed down an all too familiar path. We realized we had to act in order to ensure that the Great War never happened again.'

'So _you _started the Followers of the Apocalypse?'

Nicole sighed as the words brought back painful memories. 'If only I had started it _sooner_.It was only after my parents were killed by marauders that I woke up to the reality of the situation and decided the killing had to stop. I convinced several of the others to move away from all that with me and to dedicate our lives to trying to make this land the way it used to be, before the War.'

'I'm sorry to hear about your parents,' said Albert apologetically.

'Thank you, I appreciate that,' she said.

They passed rows of bookstacks until they came to a small study room near the back of the basement level. When the lone figure, seated at the desk reading a book, turned, Albert gave a start. He had been expecting to see the familiar face of Talius – a man who, by now, had to be in his mid-forties. Instead, the hideous face of a ghoul greeted him. But when the ghoul spoke, his voice was the same as Albert remembered from the Vault, if perhaps a little raspier. Albert had been too young to have actually personally met Talius back in the Vault but he had always aspired to be like him and, eventually, to one day leave the Vault like him. But to end up like this…

'Greetings. My name is Talius,' said the former vault dweller; it was clear he did not recognize Albert.

'Talius here assists us in understanding the workings of the Children of the Cathedral,' Nicole explained to Albert.

'That's… not what I expected from a former vault dweller,' Albert said in surprise.

'He knows?' Talius said to Nicole.

Nicole smiled at him and backstepped to the doorway. 'I'll leave you boys to reminisce,' she said, and left.

'You probably don't recognize me,' said Albert. 'My name's Albert. I was just a kid – a teenager – when the Overseer gave you that shotgun and sent you on your way.'

'Really?' Talius sounded pleasantly surprised. 'I had _heard _others were sent from the Vault to search for a way to fix the water system. But I never met any… until now.'

'Wait a minute,' Albert stopped him. 'You were sent out for a replacement water chip as well?'

'That's what led to me turning into… this.'

'Are you telling me our water chip had already broken down all those years ago?'

'Well, not quite. Back then there had been occasional glitches in the system – enough that the Overseer decided we had to do something about it. But it's broken down completely now? That's unfortunate indeed.'

'We managed to find a chip in Necropolis. The Vault's water system's back online now.'

'Necropolis?' Talius said in surprise and with what sounded like regret in his voice. 'I was that… close… to finding it?'

'What do you mean?'

'My own search led me to the City of the Dead, just as yours did. But I was ambushed by Nightkin. It was they who transformed me from my original state…'

Albert shuddered, remembering Garret's last words about the mutants' plans for Albert and the rest. 'Why did they turn you into a… ghoul?' he asked.

'Well, I'm not a ghoul. Not really. Ghouls are people whose bodies adapted to the fallout radiation from the War. I got dipped. Dipped into some green ooze or something.'

'It's called FEV,' said Albert. 'The super mutants are using it to expand their ranks. But why didn't you turn out like the other mutants?'

'I didn't get the full treatment,' said Talius, looking down at his emaciated, warped, and mutated body. 'It was the Followers who rescued me from the full effects of my transformation into a heinous beast. They actually raided the Cathedral back in the early days, before it was fully built. That was a long time ago. I don't even think the Followers had a name for themselves back then. They had suspected something was off with the Children and came to check it out. When they saw my… baptism… they decided they had to do something and broke up the ritual. Or at least that's what I've been told. I wasn't in a state in which to observe what transpired. All I had known was that I was captured in Necropolis, taken to the Cathedral, and then awoke here and was tended by a good doctor. Couldn't stop me from turning into… this… but at least I didn't turn into one of _them_.'

'Did the Nightkin… did they… _know_… you were from a vault?'

Talius shook his head. 'The Nightkin were setting foot in Necropolis for the first time back then when they caught me. They thought I was just some wanderer stupid enough to pass through the city. So they just nabbed me, brought me south to the Cathedral, and dipped me without thinking of interrogating me or anything.'

Albert breathed a sigh of relief although the image of Talius being dipped into a baptismal font of FEV still shook him.

'So you found the chip in the Necropolis vault, then, huh?' Talius continued.

'We were lucky,' said Albert. 'We just had a couple of regular super mutants to deal with. No semi-invisible Nightkin. Otherwise, I'm sure we'd have suffered more… casualties than we did.'

'Even so, you were wise to bring help,' said Talius. 'If only I had been as wise…'

'I am truly sorry for what happened to you.'

'I've gotten over it,' said Talius. 'I'm just grateful I didn't change all the way.'

'So that's how you're able to advise the Followers about the Children and the Nightkin. You've _seen _them firsthand.'

Talius nodded before changing the subject. Clearly, despite his claims that he'd come to terms with them, he still did not want to have to revisit those memories. 'So, since the Vault now has a new water chip, there are several possible reasons I can think of for why _you're _still out here. Tell me, has the Overseer finally seen his way through to allowing people to travel outside the Vault?'

Albert shook his head with a wistful smile. 'Besides you, me, and a few others he entrusted to finding the water chip, no. He still fears excessively for the safety of the dwellers.'

Talius returned the smile, though with his mutated facial expressions, his looked a little pained. 'I believed as such. He always was a cautious man. I pity him and his responsibility. But that leaves the question: why _are _you out here?'

'The same reason you… changed. The Vault will never be totally safe until the mutant threat is eliminated. Their numbers are growing and, if they haven't figured it out already, they're bound to learn that there are many _other_ vaults out there, some of which are still occupied – perfect fodder for their FEV vats. The Overseer couldn't take that chance. _I _can't take that chance.'

'Well it's quite a task you've set out for yourselves. I hope you fare better than myself against them, but… I can't help thinking that this might just be a fool's quest. I hate to admit it but despite how they look, the Nightkin _are _superior fighting specimens.'

'Regardless, I have to try.'

'If you are commited to this course of action, I should warn you that as you make your way south to the Cathedral, be on the lookout for those who would betray you. I have strong suspicions that we have a spy within our ranks, one we have been unable to ferret out.'

'What makes you so sure? Nicole seemed… uncertain.'

'Our scouts know the danger they are in when they go over to the Children to spy on them. Sometimes, some of them don't make it back. But in the last four expeditions alone, two were ambushed by Nightkin patrols. Spying on the Children is risky but it has never been _that _risky. I believe that just as we have infiltrated their ranks, so have they ours. And I believe the spy to be one of our scouts.'

* * *

><p>The next morning, Albert, Natalia, and Dogmeat assembled at the foot of the steps to the library along with Nicole, Talius, Katja, and eight other scouts all dressed in metal armor the scavs had scrapped from the dead Regulators and armed with spears and the Regulators' handguns. None of them had any real experience with firearms, as they had been a scarce commodity in the Boneyard until the elimination of the Regulators, but at least the guns would provide added insurance.<p>

Albert's hair had gone from brown to black, and he had traded his normal short but wavy style to a close-cropped look. For Natalia, the color scheme had been inverted. Her normally black hair had been bleached and then dyed auburn, and instead of the square-cut shape of her bangs, she had pulled her now shoulder length hair into a ponytail.

'Peter and his scouts will lead you to the Cathedral,' said Nicole. 'Katja has decided to accompany them.'

'If only to get out of this damn fenced-up hole of a town,' Katja added.

'From there,' Nicole continued, 'they'll wait about a half mile away at an assigned location until we receive word from our… contact… over in the Cathedral. Then they'll provide a distraction for as long as they can before making their way back here.'

'We appreciate all the help you're offering us,' said Albert, shaking her hand in thanks. He took a deep breath before delivering the rest of his planned speech to the assembled group. 'We don't know what we're going to find in the backroom of the Cathedral,' he said. 'We don't know what we're going to face. And if we fail, you, the Followers of the Apocalypse, may be the only ones left who know and are able to do something about it before it's too late. I know that you are neither trained fighters nor proponents of the use of violence in general. But if you _truly_ wish to bring peace back to the wasteland, you _may_ soon reach a point when the only way to bring it about is by denying it to yourselves and to those who would seek to steal it from the people who lack the ability to defend themselves.

'It is not going to be sufficient to destroy the Children's plans. So long as this Morpheus and the Nightkin are around, they will continue to make new plans – plans that threaten everyone who isn't one of them. Natalia and I will do what we can to stop them. _Your_ assistance in providing a distraction will be invaluable and we cannot thank you enough for the help. But I would implore you to think of taking one step further. Now, while our forces are combined, we are strongest. Who knows if we will have another chance like this one? I cannot command you to risk your lives any further, nor _would _I even if I had such authority, but I can only ask, for the sake of all those you hold dear, that when the time comes, when you receive the signal from your contact, you will do everything in your power to help us end Morpheus and the Nightkin once and for all. The destiny of the Vault, the Followers of the Apocalypse, the residents of Adytum and the Boneyard, and _every other_ human or ghoul living in the wasteland lies before the few of us now. Let us be sure we make a difference.' At the end of his oration, Albert and all those going south to the Cathedral gave a last quick farewell to Nicole and Talius. As they turned to leave, Albert made one last statement, but it was under his breath so no one else would hear. 'And let us hope we are worthy,' he said.


	28. Chapter 27: The Cathedral

Thanks for the wonderful reviews so far. It was very encouraging to hear that some of the goals I had when writing this story have been realized.

One piece of feedback could be useful for me, if someone wishes to mention it in a future review. There is a particular fight scene in this chapter. It is, I think, rather detailed. This is because, in my goal of writing events that are at least mostly believable, I visualize everything I write. This means that I basically choreograph all my fight scenes. However, I also know that, in writing, there's some principle that a lot of writers go by that involves keeping things simple so as not to lose the audience in technicalities. So, once you've read this chapter, if one or two of you could let me know if it worked or didn't work and whether you think I should refrain from being quite as detailed in future, that'd be awesome. No promises, but having feedback will undoubtedly help me in considering how I write future chapters/stories.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Cathedral**

Half a mile out from the Cathedral, Albert, Natalia, and the rest could already see the large, black structure rising ominously into the sky. Built along an ancient boardwalk by the sea, the Cathedral was a single, isolated, monolithic structure comprised of a tall tower, rising up where the sanctuary of the Cathedral was located, and a huge nave, accessible by three large ornate double-doors. The impossibly high walls surrounding the nave and transept were built from dozens of towering columns of concrete, spaced apart at regular intervals to frame the massive orange-and-red floor-to-ceiling stainglass windows. Above the three double-doors, an enormous stone statue of the upper torso of a man in ancient-looking armor with a crested helm had been erected. Reaching up along the walls of the Cathedral from the stone sentinel's back were large stone feathered wings that framed the largest stainglass window yet – the circular nuclear trefoil symbol of the Children of the Cathedral made from orange and dark opaque glass. Staring at the monolith, Albert and Natalia could only wonder at how the Children had ever manage to construct such an enormous edifice _and _do it so well.

Making the entire setup even more impressive was the fact that the Cathedral had been built out in the open, away from any nearby buildings, giving any would-be viewer an unobstructed view of its impressive size. Unfortunately, the lack of nearby cover meant that there was no possible way to sneak up on the place. Whatever opportunity had been open to the Followers all those many years ago when they had freed Talius from the Children's clutches was now gone. With the construction of the building having been completed ages ago, the Children had gotten to work removing every possible obstacle in a three-hundred-foot radius, whether it was a used car, an old food cart, a dumpster, or whatever temporary quarters that had been set up for the builders during the Cathedral's construction. Now the only way forward for Albert and Natalia was to join the crowd of people who walked aimlessly before the black structure. And that meant carrying non-concealable weapons was not an option.

Albert and Natalia concealed their AK-112s and combat armor in one of the ruined buildings outside of visual range of the Cathedral. Albert looked back up at the imposing silhouette of the Cathedral. 'We can't bring Dogmeat in,' he concluded sadly. 'Unless everyone's got their own pooch, Dogmeat will stand out like a sore thumb.'

'We can leave him with Katja,' Natalia suggested. Since the hair-dyeing session, Natalia had bonded with the green-haired former scav and the two had become fast friends. During the one-day hike to the Cathedral they had done nothing but talk to each other.

But that didn't change the next problem that emerged.

'No way!' Katja protested. 'I _hate_ dogs! The mutts I find in the Boneyard keep trying to steal my food!'

'Dogmeat's not like that,' Albert said defensively. 'He's well trained… although I have no idea how… _And _he seems to understand some level of human speech.'

'Yeah, right,' Katja scoffed.

'Dogmeat,' Albert turned to his furry companion. Dogmeat cocked his head at Albert, giving him an eerily intelligent and comprehending look. 'Stay with Katja and keep her safe until we get back.' Dogmeat gave a short whine. 'We'll be back,' Albert said, kneeling down next to Dogmeat and giving him a good neck scratch with both his hands. 'I'm not ready to die just yet. You just keep her safe.' Albert pointed directly at Katja. Dogmeat turned his gaze over to Katja and fixed her with his large inquisitive eyes.

'Don't you look at me like that!' Katja warned him.

Dogmeat turned back and gave Albert what almost looked like a quizzical stare.

'Trust me, she's a good person at heart,' said Albert. He patted Dogmeat on the head and got up. 'Protect her like you've protected me,' he said.

'He can't have understood _any _of—' Before Katja could finish her sentence. Dogmeat trotted over to where she was standing and turned so that he was standing beside her, facing Albert and Natalia. 'What the hell?' she said in wonderment.

'He likes to eat iguanas,' said Albert.

'Stealing my food all over again,' Katja said sullenly, but her hand nevertheless reached out to give Dogmeat a quick pat on the head.

Leaving the rest of the Followers behind, Albert and Natalia walked towards the throngs of people congregating at the entrance of the Cathedral. Nicole had provided them with the change of clothes to help them blend in but, after all those months of getting used to wearing armor at all times, the sudden lack of the added protection made them feel uneasy and vulnerable. If someone bumped into them hard enough and felt the shape of their plasma pistols, concealed beneath their loose-fitting shirts, it would be all over.

As the two vault dwellers neared the crowd, they realized that this was no homogenous crowd of people. Some were just average looking people, but others were dressed in dull brown robes and were chanting about Peace, the Unity, and the Holy Flame. Still others, to Albert and Natalia's great surprise, were openly walking around in leather armor and carrying various types of firearms. The place was also dotted with tents, suggesting that many of the crowd had actually been staying there for awhile already. There were scattered groups of people merely mingling and having conversations, but there were also other groups who congregated around the chanters and sang songs to the Holy Flame. Altogether the cacophony of voices and variety of people made for an utterly chaotic scene.

'Albert, I'm getting seriously creepy vibes again,' said Natalia, recalling the last time they had entered a place controlled by the Children of the Cathedral.

'Yeah, me too,' Albert agreed.

'It almost looks like they're beginning to… assemble for something.'

Someone in robes suddenly broke from the crowd and confronted them. At first, both their hands went for their guns but Albert, with his years of experience as a marriage counselor, trained to read body language and facial expressions, was the first to realize that the man didn't mean them any harm, at least not at that moment. His hand shot out to stop Natalia from drawing her own weapon.

'Hello friends!' the man beamed. 'I'm so glad to see you've joined our case!'

'Yes… But we're new,' said Albert. 'We've heard nothing but great things about Peace and Unity and we came to learn more after visiting your hospice in the Hub.'

'Ahh, yes. The Children perform many services for people over there. Healing the sick, feeding the hungry, teaching the young… I'm quite proud of them. As for learning more, that takes time. Some of the people here have only been around for a few days and likely know only about as much as you do about Peace and Unity. And even people like me, who have been here for months, still don't know everything. The mind of the Master is so great that you can spend months meditating here and glimpse only a fraction of His infinite knowledge.'

'Speaking of the people here,' said Albert, 'is this… normal?' He gestured at the crowd.

'Oh, this is fairly recent,' the man replied. 'You've come at a particularly exciting time. The Children are marching north in a few days.'

'North? To do what?' asked Natalia.

'We will take control of all the settlements and baptize everyone!' the man said, a little too enthusiastically for their liking. 'Just like the many people out in the wasteland who work to make the world a safer place, we plan to do the same, only on a larger scale.'

'_How _large, exactly, are we talking about?' Natalia continued to ask.

'As large as possible. The world is in chaos. It needs order or it will not survive. We will bring order, and prevent the monsters from hurting it again as they did in the Apocalypse.'

'You said you were planning to… baptize everyone,' Albert said, trying to figure out how much this man actually knew. 'What's the baptism actually for?'

'It changes us,' said the man. 'It brings us closer to the Holy Flame so that we can have Peace and Unity and never suffer from war or destruction again!'

'And where _is _the baptismal font?'

'Unfortunately, I have never been privileged enough to see it. Only a select few are chosen each time and no one really knows what we must do to be chosen except to be fully dedicated to the Holy Flame. Of course, _how _to show one's full dedication is another matter. Many here believe that if we offer enough praise to the Master, we will receive the blessing of baptism.'

As if in response, one of the chanting groups reached a swell in their praise.

'Hail the Master! Hail the Holy Flame! Hail Peace and Unity!' they shouted. The man who had been speaking with Albert and Natalia grinned and left them to join in the chanting.

Another robed man from somewhere else in the crowd came dancing over, drawn to the group's noise. 'The Master looks above! The Master sits below!' he sang. 'Watch the Peace and Unity grow!'

'I'm going to talk to one of the surlier looking people,' said Albert. 'Maybe I'll be able to get something concrete out of them. Why don't you… mingle and see if you can eavesdrop on anything that might be useful?'

'I don't know,' Natalia said reluctantly. 'No one's recognized us yet, but if they do…'

'It'll be no worse than inside the Cathedral,' Albert finished. 'And most of the people here are probably relatively new to the Children and to the Cathedral. There's probably a much smaller chance of getting recognized out here.'

'Alright, but let's meet back here soon. I just… don't really like being in the middle of so many people.'

'I understand,' said Albert. It was more a matter of personality difference than anything else. Back in the Vault, he had gotten used to being in crowds – usually at the center of them. Natalia, on the other hand, had spent much more time sneaking into places she wasn't meant to be in and otherwise spending most of her time on her own, away from friends and, especially, family. The added risk of potential discovery and the disturbing quality of a religious fervor built on a rather dark premise of conversion only made things worse for her. 'Twenty minutes,' said Albert.

Albert headed over to some of the less-friendly people carrying weapons while Natalia wandered aimlessly through the crowds, hoping to overhear something that might be useful.

For Albert, it was easy to locate the people he was looking for. Unlike the chanters and their audiences, the armed thugs were clearly not particularly taken in by the ecstatic religiosity and very visibly congregated only amongst themselves.

_So what are they doing here? _he asked himself.

'Excuse me,' he said to one of them who stood at the edge of a group of submachine gun-totting, leather-clad thugs.

The beefy looking man turned to him and fixed him with an irritated look. 'You wanna talk to Ton? Fine. But if I hear the word "praise," I'll kill you.'

'You and me both,' Albert said lightly, trying to find the right level of empathy with the man. 'I take that to mean you're not a big fan of worship services either?'

'You stand around this for months, and you go crazy as them.'

'I'll bet. But how'd these people _get _like this?'

'These people, these… zombies, weren't always this way. I even used to be able to stand a few of them. Then they got consecrated. Some of them came out like this. Some of them didn't come out at all. Ton doesn't like it, but then again these people pay Ton well.'

Most of the people here _did_ seem weird, just a little too happy for life in the wasteland, Albert thought. But then again, wasn't that one of the rather powerful functions of religion – providing a way to cope with hardship? 'What's this conversion process entail?' he asked instead.

'It's not healthy to ask the wrong question, compadre,' Ton warned. 'They have all the answers they want you to hear. People who ask the wrong questions, or people who screw up, well, they don't stay around here very long.'

'You've never gotten curious about what happens behind those doors?'

'Look. The Master wants peace, and he wants us to get it for him, so we're going to head north to all the settlements out there and have ourselves a bit of fun. Capiche? We're getting ready for war! We're going to save the world so we can fill it with all of this Peace and Unity bullshit.'

'But how does that even make sense?'

Ton shrugged. 'I don't care. I get to eat well, sleep in peace, and kill some of the people who used to screw me over. You want something _more _than that from life?'

It was a rhetorical question that suggested to Albert that this thug and probably the rest as well were just hired guns for the Children. Still, they had to know _something_.

'This Master – Morpheus. who is he really?' Albert asked.

'Well, Morpheus is the man in charge. He stays upstairs except to give sermons, and he don't even do that much anymore. He's smart and he's a winner, and that's all that counts. But he's not the Master. Or at least, he's not the Master every one of these religious nutcases here keeps talking about.'

'Really?' said Albert in surprise. 'So who _is _the Master?'

'I don't know,' Ton said grumpily. 'They seem to refer to the Holy Flame as the Master sometimes. But He's also more than that, supposedly. A few of the consecrated occasionally meet alone in the nave and they claim to have seen Him appear to them in a vision or some shit like that. For all I know, it's just Morpheus pulling the strings, which is just fine by me.'

'C'mon, man. That tells me nothing,' Albert pushed. 'Share some of the dirt!'

'The guy dresses in black, he does his preacher act, then he goes upstairs and counts his scrip,' Ton suggested. 'I wish _I _had it that easy!' Ton stopped and looked towards the three double-doors with what looked like trepidation on his face. 'I better stop talking about him behind his back, though,' he said. 'The Nightkin might hear.'

'What are you afraid of, exactly? What will they do?'

Ton turned his eyes back to Albert. 'You gotta be joking. The Nightkin are killers. You look at them the wrong way, and they'll cut off your body parts, cook 'em, and feed them to you a piece at a time. And some of them you can't even see. You never know when they're watching and…' Ton glanced around nervously, the gravity of his words becoming apparent to himself. 'And… I ain't saying nothin' else,' he ended, turning his back on Albert and returning to his own group of thugs.

Albert wandered around a little more, avoiding anyone who stared at him for too long. Unfortunately, of those who weren't busy contributing to the cacophony of chanting, no one else seemed eager to talk (or at least none who didn't also give him suspicious looks).

He was just about to reconvene with Natalia when two large bells up in the Cathedral's belfry began to toll. As if automatically summoned, the crowds of chanters and their choirs turned as one and began marching up the long wide steps leading to the Cathedral doors. The only ones that were left were the armed thugs. Quickly deciding that this might be the only chance he had to get into the Cathedral without standing out, Albert hurriedly joined the crowd, hoping as he did so that Natalia would also be thinking along the same lines.

Nearing the foot of the black edifice, Albert couldn't help but be awed by its sheer size. There were hundreds of people around and yet he was sure they would all be able to fit inside. What was quickly becoming even more impressive to him was the fact that unlike every single building he had come across since leaving the Vault, this one was a new construction, possibly even the only real properly designed and built piece of post-War architecture. Even the three immense wooden doors were obviously made from fine workmanship. It was easy to see how the Children were able to win over converts among those who came to visit. In a world where everything was only a shadow of what it once had been before the bombs fell, this construction was, at the same time, both awe-inspiring and terrible to behold.

Inside, Albert found himself along with the rest of the crowd in a long wide corridor that opened out into the nave of the church. As with the outside, everything on the inside had been painted different shades of black and gray. Smaller chambers had been constructed along the sides of the corridor perhaps for individual prayers. Filtering out of the corridor, Albert was once again overwhelmed by the impressive architecture of the building. As he took his first step into the nave, the relatively low ceiling of the corridor pulled away revealing the impressive vaulted roof that was so high up that it was almost totally obscured in darkness by the approaching gloom of evening.

The transept of the building ended at one door at each end, one of which likely lead to the rectory. As with the three entrance doors, each wooden door here was finely constructed and had been reinforced with ornate metal braces that twisted and curled into an almost hypnotic design. Along the walls on either side of the nave hung red banners bearing the Children's symbol. Past the chancel, in the sanctuary, a large simple stage made with painted wood had been constructed where the altar would have been. A single podium stood at the front of the stage bearing the image of a black and yellow nuclear trefoil. Behind it, against the wall were two large monitors. On one, three words kept repeating, one after the other: Unity; Pray; Follow. The other one was still switched off.

Standing in the back, Albert could finally get a sense of the composition of the congregation. About two thirds of the congregants sitting in the pews were dressed in simple, hooded, brown robes with dark brown sashes around their waists. These were likely the Cathedral's acolytes. The rest were dressed in the standard assortment of clothes that Albert had gotten used to seeing amongst the citizens of other towns like Junktown and the Hub. Albert suspected they were either initiates or new visitors.

Realizing that he was standing out, Albert took a seat in the last row of pews next to a robed initiate. As he did so, the remaining black screen flickered to life. Like the other monitor, this one was in black-and-white, which made the image that appeared a few seconds later that much more disturbing to Albert.

The video depicted an empty room. The figure that stepped into view was hooded and robed, but, even in the black-and-white filter, Albert could see the brighter colored trimmings along the edges of the robe, suggesting that the speaker held some position of rank. In the angle of the lighting, Albert could only make out the man's sharp, hard, and narrow features – from his beak-like nose and pointed chin to his narrow jawline and pencil-thin moustache. The lines on his face depicted not only his age but his tendency to fix his expression into a frown. Of the man's eyes, Albert could see neither. The lighting was projected from above, casting both his eyes into the dark shadows of his protruding brow.

'You, my Children,' said the man in a voice that sounded hard but refined and crisp. Each word of his was delivered purposefully and full of gravitas, yet as he progressed in his speech, his voice swelled in volume and his pacing grew ever more feverish. '_You _have come to the right place for spiritual fulfillment. You have acknowledged that there is none greater than the Holy Flame. You have acknowledged that you, as we all, are but His servants. Soon shall we set forth on our great Crusade, armed with the vision of the Master and the strength of the Nightkin, and bring into the fold all who are able and willing to join us in this glorious new life.

'To accomplish a task of such a great magnitude requires the service of every able-bodied child of this great Cathedral. Yet not all are ready. Not all are worthy. Those who are shall not only transcend their initiation but will receive their baptism and walk side-by-side with the mighty Nightkin, bringing the righteous might of the armies of the Holy Flame to bear upon those who would resist our divine task. Banditry, theft, gang activity, licentious behavior, exploitation of the downtrodden and the destitute; these are the sins, these are the crimes, that those who oppose us would wish to perpetuate and promulgate. The Apocalypse was _caused _by human selfishness – by those who would let their selfish desires oppose the better good of humanity. We must not allow this to happen! If the world is to survive, this madness _must _be purged from the human heart.

'How then shall we identify the righteous from the unrighteous; the wheat from the chaff; the ready from the unready; the chosen from the masses? The answer: Commitment! Faith! And perseverance! Already many of you have taken the first steps. You have spent weeks meditating and fasting here, allowing the Spirit of the Master which suffuses these very walls to enter and nourish your bodies and your souls. You have volunteered for service work, carrying our message of Peace and Unity throughout the wasteland through our few but ever-growing number of hospices. You have given generously, not only to strengthen the reach of the Cathedral but also to free yourselves of the bonds of materialism. But more is needed. Cast aside now your earthly trappings, give all you possess to the Unity, and perhaps you may find yourselves amongst the elect when next the time has come for the great baptism.'

Albert had heard rhetoric like this before in the historical videos in the Vault's library archive. This kind of rhetoric had been used frequently by famous figures in America's history – both those sincere and devoted to their faith as well as those merely appropriating the medium of religious ideology to gain power and wealth for themselves. He had studied them, even used some of their rhetorical methods in his own speeches. At the same time, with his personal religious skepticism, both kinds of oratorical delivery had always made him feel uneasy, from the invocation of religious ideals to condemn others to hellfire and damnation to even the simple act of a president swearing into office with his hand on a Bible. Regardless of whether the speakers' motives were noble or not, or even whether the outcome was ultimately benign or harmful, just the realization of the power that religion could have over its adherents disturbed Albert. Much good had come out of the religions of humankind, he had to admit, but also much evil. And this time, the knowledge that this was all a front for the transformation of unwitting initiates into grotesque super mutants made the speaker's delivery even more unnerving.

As Albert looked uncomfortably around as the crowds sat entranced at every word the recording of the speaker threw at them, he noticed someone was also doing to same thing as he was. When her head turned his way, he knew he had found the person he had been looking for. Her long, shaggy, blond hair and her green eyes made her part of a very small minority of the people sitting in the pews. Added to that was the fact that she didn't seem all that absorbed by what was being said.

The speaker in the video kept up with his religious dogma for another twenty minutes but Albert wasn't really paying attention anymore. When the service was finally over and the congregants began filing back out of the Cathedral, Albert slowly navigated his way through the moving crowd towards the blond-haired woman.

When he stopped expectantly in front of her, she looked up and smiled. 'Hello, my brother,' she said cheerfully. 'May I be of service this glorious day?' Her voice was soothing but her emphatic tone was as disturbing as the words coming out of any of the other overzealous acolytes' mouths.

'Are you… Laura?' he asked, a little uncertainly.

She beamed at him. 'I most certainly am. Did you want something?'

'Well, for one…' He lowered his voice. 'I wanted to let you know that the Red Rider is here.'

'I'm sorry, I don't believe I know what that means,' she said, much to his surprise.

'Is there another Laura around here?' he asked. 'Maybe—'

'I'm sorry. I… I just don't know,' she said loudly and apologetically. Albert was convinced he had foolishly gotten the wrong person and was about to excuse himself when Laura's voice dropped low. She lowered her hood and whispered as she walked past him. 'Follow me to a place where we can talk.'

Albert looked around to make sure no one had overheared their conversation or was paying attention to them before turning and following. She led the way back into the corridor towards the three main entrances but turned aside into one of the smaller chambers. He was just about to enter when Natalia reappeared by his side.

'Where'd you go?' he asked as they entered the chamber, closing the door behind them.

'They have…' she paused, noticing Laura's presence.

'It's her,' Albert confirmed to Natalia. He turned to Laura. 'She's with me.'

'Well, I found an old Wattz ElectroBox backup generator powering the place through the right door of the transept,' said Natalia. 'If we wait for night and power down the thing, this whole place will go dark.'

'I hope you were on the lookout for Nightkin when you snuck in there,' said Laura. 'Occasionally, one of the semi-invisible ones will take a look inside to make sure everything's okay in there. If you're not paying attention, you could be standing right next to one of the Nightkin and not know it.'

'I was alone,' Natalia insisted.

Laura seemed satisfied and turned back to Albert. 'Okay, we have to hurry,' she said. 'I lead a chant in fifteen minutes.'

'What have you learnt about the Children's recent plans?'

'Well, you've seen their hospitals, no doubt. They're setting them up all over the place, trying to get people to trust them. Last I heard, they set up a new clinic in Junktown. Took over some poor guy's place and made him disappear.'

'Doc Morbid's not going to like that,' Albert murmured. Secretly he began to hope the good doctor would turn his fascination with his namesake onto his new competition. If ever there were anyone Albert would wish cannibalism on, it would be these Children.

'Is their plan working?' Natalia asked.

'Look around,' said Laura. 'People are flocking to the Cathedral, most of them clueless to what's really going on here.'

'What _is _really going on here?' asked Albert.

'For one thing, people seem to disappear a lot around here, while the number of Nightkin are slowly growing. And not just the congregants. Some of the Children's upper-level leadership have also vanished. Deacon Oliver, Father Pinochet… there's only Morpheus and Lasher left now. And the rest of the people here: they eventually go through the Children's Servitor process and come out as mindlessly cheerful crazies singing all day about the Holy Flame and the Master.'

'What do you know about this Master?'

'Not much. The Children worship him, and sometimes a huge…' Laura paused, and a shadow passed over her face. It was clear she was reliving some unpleasant and troubling memory. 'A huge vision of him appears in the main nave sometimes to the fully consecrated,' she finished.

'A vision…' Albert said somewhat skeptically. 'Have you seen it?'

'I…' Laura's composure faltered for a moment. She took a deep breath to soothe her nerves. 'I wasn't supposed to. But I hid in the back in one of the closer chambers once, after hours, when some of the higher-up acolytes were meeting. There are some things…. things that normal humans… weren't mean to see.'

Albert and Natalia traded slightly worried glances.

'What did you see?' Albert asked seriously.

Laura shook her head violently. 'No… I can't…' she said. 'I _won't _remember it.'

'It was probably fake,' said Albert, trying to ease her fears. 'Just like the rest of this religion the Children have cooked up. I know that the vaults have highly advanced holo-projectors that could project computer-generated images.'

'You _are_ right about the projector, at least,' said Laura. 'When nobody was watching, I snuck up and had a closer look at the altar they sometimes set up on the stage.'

'And?' said Albert.

'I found a strange mechanical device with a lens under the altar.'

'Problem solved then,' Albert concluded.

Laura shook her head again. 'I wish it were all just fake, but… the Master is real. The Holy Flame that he's sometimes described as by the servitors is fake, or at least it's just metaphorical, but the figure that is projected through that lens… _that_ Master is real.'

'What makes you so sure?'

'You know how some of the people here say the Master lives inside the walls of the Cathedral?' Albert nodded. 'Well, they're not lying. Not exactly. Stay here long enough and you… hear him.' She raised her hand, sensing Albert was about to feed her another rational explanation. 'You hear him… in your head.'

'You haven't…' Albert began.

'No,' Laura said adamantly. 'I have not been baptized, or… consecrated… as a servitor. The Master is flesh and blood… and I think I know where he is.'

'Where? The Inner Sanctum?'

'It's not the Inner Sanctum you want to enter. Every once in awhile, Morpheus will go through a door near the Inner Sanctum using this strange key. I followed him through without him knowing one time. He takes a secret staircase leading below the Church and, at the bottom, there's a hidden door that the guy activates by pulling a latch hidden behind the books on one of the shelves. He goes in, the wall closes behind him, and he just disappears.'

'Have you—'

'I've never tried to follow him all the way in.'

'Why not?'

'Usually, that staircase is guarded by one of the Nightkin. I was lucky enough that Morpheus decided to send him on an errand that afternoon but I sure as hell didn't want to be down there still when the Nightkin got back. Believe me, if you've seen even one of them, you'd know why. And there was… something else as well…'

'What?'

Laura shuddered. 'I don't know. Something that made wet, gurgling, animalistic noises. I heard them coming out from that opening and I just… I couldn't go into the dark.'

Albert and Natalia glanced at each other again. They couldn't be absolutely certain, but the sounds Laura had just described to them sounded like what they themselves had heard in the sewers of Necropolis during their second visit there.

'Master or no, we have to find out what Morpheus is hiding there before we can decide our next course of action,' said Albert. 'We need to find a way in.'

'If that's your plan, you'll need a disguise. And I'm not talking robes like mine. I mean the dark purple ones with the gold trimmings that only trusted members of the Cathedral are allowed to wear. No one else besides them and the Nightkin is allowed down there.'

'What about this key you talked about? Do you know where Morpheus keeps it?'

'I'd say he probably keeps it on him.'

'And I assume Morpheus is one of those who wears the purple robes?' Laura nodded. 'Well, it looks like we know what must be done, then,' Albert said to Natalia. Natalia bit her lip but nodded.

'Then take this,' said Laura, handing him a red badge in the shape of the Children of the Cathedral's symbol. 'Show it to the Nightkin guarding the steps to the Upper Sanctuary in the Inner Sanctum. The door off to the side of the stage and the podium will lead you into a small corridor. In that corridor you'll find two more doors. The door at the far end will take you to the passageway that leads to the secret staircase I talked about. The other will take you into the Inner Sanctum. Once there, take the staircase all the way up to the top floor. You'll find Morpheus' room there.

'Honestly, even if all you do here is to take down Morpheus, that will be a huge boon to the wasteland. None of the other leaders of the Children are quite as ruthless or sharp as he is. See, Morpheus doesn't really care about the dogma he spouts. He's in it for the power and he knows how to twist people to get it. Lasher and some of the new rising leadership… some of them may know what's really going on down below with the Nightkin, but they really truly believe in the Unity and Peace. That makes them dangerous religious radicals, but they're nowhere near as calculating as Morpheus is. The Followers would be a lot safer if Morpheus were… removed.'

'But in order for us to make it all the way to the top, won't we need two badges?' Natalia asked.

'Unfortunately that was all I was able to get,' Laura replied. 'And you'll need my robes…' She pondered the situation for a moment. 'Follow me out of the Cathedral. I'll give them to you and then go meet with the other Followers.'

'Didn't you say you needed to lead a chant soon?' Albert asked as they made their way out of the Cathedral and back into the crowd that had reconvened outside after the videorecorded sermon earlier. They left the crowd and headed for the nearest building. No one stopped them or gave them anything more than passing looks. Apparently, those permitted to wear the brown robes that Laura wore had some degree of freedom to come and go as they pleased, or at the least were assumed to have business outside if they left the Cathedral.

'If you're going after Morpheus, then, for better or worse, things are going to change,' she said in reply to Albert's observation. 'I don't want to be around when they do. Now, once I meet with the other Followers, we'll we create a diversion. That should clear out at least some of the Nightkin in the Cathedral – give you some breathing room to do… whatever it is you're going to do.'

* * *

><p>The sun was setting when Katja and the Followers had finally gotten everything ready. The scouts been working on this for months, getting all the correct pieces and then stashing them in the correct places – not easy considering the number of Nightkin patrols in the area. But now, all that had needed to be done were the last few final touches.<p>

Katja wiped the excess gasoline on her leather pants, realizing as she did so that that was probably a really stupid thing to do. She turned to the wall of the abandoned shop in which they had congregated and turned her ministrations onto it instead. When her hands no longer felt like they would combust if placed too close to an open flame, she rejoined the rest of the group.

Frowning, she approached Peter, the leader of the Follower Scouts. 'Where's Heather?' she asked.

Peter looked around. Heather was the only one who hadn't made it back yet. 'She was handling the nearest stash,' he said, sharing Katja's frown. 'She should have been back by now.' They heard the sound of loose gravel from outside of the open doorway. 'That must be her now,' said Peter.

Katja turned to the doorway and her eyes widened as the space in the doorway became suddenly blurry. 'NIGHTKIN!' She yelled, throwing herself at Peter. Both of them hit the ground as a beam of laser emerged seemingly out of empty space and cut a jagged line into the wall behind them.

The other scouts were quick to react. Three of them launched their spears at the blurred figure. The watery-looking shape bellowed in pain as the three spears found their mark and seemed to stick in mid air. Only their tips, that had penetrated their mark, became invisible.

But the spears weren't enough to stop one of the Nightkin. The laser beam that had jerked off wildly when the Nightkin had been hit was recorrected, and, in a sudden sweeping arc, the red beam sliced its way to two of the scouts – Amber and Neil. Amber was dissected cleanly through her hips, just below the metal chestplate that might have otherwise saved her life. Her upper torso toppled backwards and hit the ground as her legs buckled forwards. Neil got luckier. Just as the beam headed his way, Dogmeat launched himself at the invisible blur that was the Nightkin. He didn't manage to latch onto anything but the impact shook the Nightkin's aim. Instead of cutting through Neil the way it had done Amber, the beam went high, burning through a bit of the side of Neil's exposed torso but then harmlessly bouncing off the plates of his metal armor. The beam deflected crazily off the chestplate and into the floor.

The Follower scouts had not had a whole lot of experience of facing everyday dangers that came with living outside of a protective double fence. While they had practiced well and hard with their spears and gone on several runs with the scavs to get them accustomed to moving stealthily, they were not trained in tactical combat. Those scouts who were near enough and still had their spears charged the blurred silhouette of the Nightkin, intent on ramming their weapons into its chest. Those who had already thrown their spears drew the handguns the scavs in Adytum had reappropriated for them from the now-deceased Regulators.

Unfortunately, with all the crowding, the Nightkin had no short supply of targets. Keeping the trigger on his laser rifle depressed , the Nightkin waved his weapon's barrel at the scouts' legs. Two more scouts lost their legs below the knees before the remaining scouts with spears had plunged their weapons into the silhouette. Dogmeat lunged again. This time his fangs pierced the flesh of the Nightkin's forearm.

The Nightkin staggered back out of range of the scouts and with one sweeping motion, brought his hand down hard on the shafts of the spears sticking out of his body, at the same time both splintering them all and also shaking Dogmeat loose.

Then something happened that surprised everyone. As Dogmeat lost his grip on the Nightkin's forearm, something from the Nightkin came loose in his teeth. Everyone caught a glimpse of some kind of electronic device attached to a wristband that Dogmeat's fangs had severed. But as the device came free of the Nightkin's wrist, the invisibility that had shrouded the super mutant abruptly vanished. All of a sudden, everyone had a clear sight of the hulking eight-foot-tall bluish-green giant in front of them.

Neil and another one of the scouts opened fire with their pistols. The two scouts left with spears, heartened by their change in fortunes, charged again.

By this time, the Nightkin's rifle had overheated from having emitted its lethal laser beam continuously for far too long. The laser rifle had been designed for short "bursts" but the Nightkin had been using it as if it were an assault rifle on full-auto.

Undiscouraged, the Nightkin turned the long rifle in his hands and used it to swat away the two scouts with the spears, sending them halfway across the room. Peter and Katja, in the meantime, had gotten back to their feet. Peter picked up his fallen spear and advanced. Katja threw one of her throwing knives at the monster's neck. The blade hit its mark, but the Nightkin's neck was so muscular that the knife did not manage to reach the carotid artery as was intended. Katja threw a second knife that pierced but then was deflected off the Nightkin's thick skull. Realizing the limits of her weapons, she switched tactics and began circling the Nightkin to attack from the rear.

The Nightkin advanced head-to-head with Peter, swinging his overheated laser rifle like a club. Peter ducked and then plunged his spear forward with such force that the pole of the spear quivered as it penetrated the Nightkin's skin. The laser rifle came down hard on Peter's head, causing him to crumple to the ground from the impact.

The Nightkin reached for the spear that now protruded from his chest but before he could grab it, Katja had leapt up onto his back and began stabbing at his neck. At the same time, Dogmeat went for the mutant's leg. The Nightkin roared in pain but not before grabbing Katja with one of his enormous hands and hurling her across the room till she hit the wall. With his free leg, the Nightkin delivered a heavy boot to Dogmeat's side. Ragged strings of raw flesh from the Nightkin's half-chewed leg came loose in Dogmeat's mouth as he sailed across the floor to the other side of the room.

Free from any close-combat hindrances, the Nightkin turned his attention to Neil and the other scout who had been firing their weapons at him. In two steps, the Nightkin had closed the distance and, swinging his long rifle again in one long arc, clubbed them both with enough force to leave them dazed on the ground. Just like that, in a matter of less than fifteen seconds, every one of his attackers had been brought to the ground.

Katja tried to scramble to feet but she had only just succeeded when she felt monstrous hands clasp themselves around her throat and lift her bodily into the air. She stabbed wildly at the hand, earning a few grunts of pain but little more than that. The Nightkin's grip tightened and her vision was just starting to swim when the mutant gave an involuntary cry of pain and his hands loosened their hold.

Seizing the opportunity, Katja leapt up towards the Nightkin's head. She wrapped her legs as best as she could around his broad chest, then, taking one of her throwing knives in each hand, she began to stab at his neck and face over and over. Dark, almost black, blood sprayed all over her face, upper body, and arms. The Nightkin made a futile grab for her again but the loss of blood from the dozens of wounds all over his body was finally weakening him. Katja was relentless and didn't stop stabbing until the monstrous creature finally buckled and toppled backwards. Behind him, and much to Katja's surprise, stood Laura. She released her hold on the spear that she had used to skewer the Nightkin in his back and nimbly sidestepped the falling giant. As the Nightkin hit the ground, the spear in his back shattered under the weight.

Katja hopped off the corpse and stared in disbelief at a face she had not seen in over a year. 'Laura?'

Laura, having traded her robes for wasteland clothes that she had once almost thought she might never wear again, also looked surprised to see Katja. The two old friends embraced.

'Thanks for the help,' said Katja, breaking the embrace and helping Peter and the other scouts back to their feet. As for the two who had lost their lower legs, they were clearly in a lot of pain, although the wounds had been cauterized by the laser. There was nothing that could be done for Amber but the scouts had faced death before on many occasions. There would be time to mourn later.

'No, problem. I just…' Laura surveyed the scene of carnage and Amber's dismembered body. Peter was administering stimpaks while the other scouts helped prop the two maimed scouts to a seating position against the wall. Two of the scouts solemnly and gravely rearranged Amber's two halves together so that she was seemed as if she were just lying down. One of them shut Amber's eyes almost giving the complete illusion that she was sleeping. 'I'm sorry Amber,' he said. 'Your sacrifice will not have been in vain.'

'What the hell happened here, you guys?' Laura said, still shocked by the scene.

'We were just finalizing the preparations when this Nightkin here…' Katja paused in midsentence as she again took notice of the electronic device that had come loose from the Nightkin's wrist during the fight and now lay on the ground. Reaching for it, her fingers found a button on its side. The first time she pushed it, nothing happened. Then she noticed there was some kind of sensor on its underside. If the strap hadn't broken, the sensor would have been pressed against the user's wrist. She turned it back the right side up and pushed the sensor down on her wrist before hitting the button again.

This time, she was greeted by a collective gasp of astonishment from her audience as she abruptly vanished from sight. Only a blurry, shifting silhouette of her was left. It was as if her entire body had taken on the consistency and appearance of water.

'It's as if the light from one side of you is reflected to the other,' Neil, the tech expert of the scouts, observed. He reached out a hand to touch the watery silhouette. His fingers came into contact with something soft and springy to the touch, yet his hand remained visible. 'And it looks like it only affects whatever you were wearing or holding when you activated it.'

Katja pressed the button again and came back into full view. 'Neil, touch my boobs again and I'll cut your fucking hand off!'

Her brief outburst drew a few soft laughs, helping to diffuse some of the pain at Amber's loss.

Neil apologized. 'You have to admit, though, it's fascinating.' He reached out his hand for the device but Katja delivered a quick smack to his wrist.

'Keep you damn hands to yourself you perv!' she warned. Satisfied that he was keeping his distance, Katja examined the device more closely. Along its side there was a few words in small print. It read _RobCo Stealth Boy 3001 Personal Stealth Device_. 'Wish I had one of these when I was scavving on my own,' she said, quickly forgetting Neil's most recent offence.

'You haven't told me how the Nightkin managed to get the drop on you,' said Laura, trying to bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand. 'You can normally hear them coming a mile off!'

'It must have known we were here,' said Peter. 'Made sure to mask its footfalls.'

Katja's eyes widened suddenly as she remembered what she had been talking to Peter about just before the Nightkin had attacked. 'Heather! That traitorous bitch! She's the spy!'

Katja looked like she was about to race out of the door when Laura stopped her. 'Wait, we still need to set the diversion. Your two friends back at the Cathedral are counting on us.'

'If Heather makes it to the Cathedral and warns the Children of our plans, the diversion won't matter one bit for Albert and Natalia. I have to reach them before it's too late. You set the diversion and then get the hell out of here.' Katja gave an apologetic look at Peter at her proposed departure.

'I don't see how we're going to do that now,' said Peter. 'Once we start the fires, the Nightkin will be on us like a swarm. We're not going to be able to outrun them; not in our current condition.'

'Then we'll hide,' said Laura. 'The last place the Nightkin will be expecting us is right next to the scene of the crime.' She pointed at the hidden nook in the building across the street where they had been hiding their stores of gasoline, wood, and other combustible items for the past few months. 'They didn't manage to find it then; there's no reason they'll find it now. They'll assume we're trying to flee back to the Library.'

'Alright. Do that,' said Katja. 'And take this just in case.' She handed Laura the Stealh Boy.

Laura pushed her hand back, refusing the offer. 'It only works for one,' she reminded Katja. 'You'll need it more than we will.'

Katja nodded solemnly. 'I'll see you back in Adytum when this is all over,' she said. 'Don't get caught.' She left with Dogmeat following closely behind.

'Will the Nightkin attack Adytum after we set the decoys?' Neil said worriedly after Katja had gone.

Laura shook her head. 'Not yet. Not the one's who'll be coming after us at any rate. But they _are _amassing a fighting force at the Cathedral. If your two friends hadn't found me when they did, I'd have been forced to break my cover anyway to warn Nicole about their plans.'

'When?' Peter asked, sounding even more worried than Neil.

'Within a week at most,' said Laura. 'They'll probably go for the more weakly defended communities in the Boneyard first, but it's only a matter of time until they reach Adytum.

'Even the Blades with their new arsenal of weapons won't be able to stop an army of Nightkin,' Neil observed.

'Albert was right,' said Peter. 'We'd better make this count.'

* * *

><p>It was already fully dark when the four separate fires cast their orange glow on the skyline that was visible from the Cathedral. Murmurs of anxiety and fear rose amongst the crowd of mercenaries, servitors, acolytes, and prospective members who had been making camp just outside the Cathedral doors.<p>

It didn't take long until a platoon of Nightkin – some shrouded in the cloaking fields of their Stealth Boys, others fully visible – emerged from the doors to investigate the raging fires. Albert noticed, as they passed, that these Nightkin had a bluish tint to their skin, unlike the other super mutants he and Natalia had encountered before.

Once all the mutants had passed through, Albert and Natalia headed back in doors. 'Fifteen minutes,' said Albert, now dressed in Laura's brown robes. 'I should be able to keep Morpheus talking at least that long. Natalia nodded and headed off to the generator room. Albert, in the meantime, made his way over to the door that would lead to the Inner Sanctum.

He found the small corridor, just as Laura had described. Taking the door into the Inner Sanctum, he found himself in a room with a baptismal font at the end and a staircase off to the side. On the right were three separate doors. The place was empty. Albert didn't doubt there would be Nightkin guards on the upper floors, even with some of them distracted by the diversion the Followers of the Apocalypse had created. Nevertheless, he was relieved that he could delay his first face-to-face meeting with one them.

Albert was just about to head up the stairs when he heard voices from one of the three doors. Tiptoeing over, Albert listened to, what he came to realize, was a conversation that someone behind the door was having with himself!

'There ain't nothin' like a Dane…' sang the voice.

Then it switched to a higher-pitched friendly tone. 'What's your favorite color, friend? Mine is milk!'

The voice grew harsh and angry. 'You're an idiot, Dane! They're going to kill you soon and you deserve it! Weakling! Weakling!'

'They're watching us even now!' said the voice in a worried tone. 'Mr. Nightkin! Felix and Timothy! Cats! Dogs! Nightkin!'

'Shut up!' yelled the angry voice. 'They'll think you're a crazy asshole! You gotta get yourself together!'

'Lasher!' said the friendly voice. 'You gotta kill Father Lasher! Save the kid! His education is too harsh! Should he be allowed to hurt children? Poor little Flower Child. Poor me.'

'Shut up you son of a bitch!' shouted the angry voice. 'Pull yourself together!'

'MOOOOO! MOOOOO! MOOOOO! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!'

'Enough with the Brahmin! You'll start smelling like them! Then everyone will just puke!'

Albert was starting to get a headache just listening to the insane rapid non-stop ramblings but just as he was about to head back to the staircase, the voice said something that caught his attention.

'I used to be insane, you know, until I went through the Servitor process. I used to be insane, but now I'm just in pieces. Pieces! Pieces! It's all a game, you see. A game, and I'm one of the pieces. And a kid got real angry, and so he started stepping on me. Step and step and step and step, and finally I just broke! Maybe they'll scoop out my brain! Scoop out my brain and turn me into their pet! Here, Dane! Catch the ball, Dane! Sic 'em, Dane! Sic 'em, Dane! Sic 'em, Dane! Execute them, you brain-dead dog!'

Listening to the endless stream of nonsense, Albert began to wonder if there was some truth left in the brain of the madman. Hoping he wasn't making a big mistake, Albert knocked on the door.

At first there was silence. Then the man spoke. 'Who is it? My name is Dane. I am a Viking. I like ducks. I rape and pillage! Will you rape and pillage with me?'

'May I come in? I'd like to talk with you,' said Albert.

'Do you like puzzles?' came the reply. 'Son of a bitch, I'm a puzzle! Will you help me put myself together?'

Albert took that as his cue and opened the door. Inside the small bedroom he saw a big, burly-looking man dressed in what was either a pair of pyjamas or a mental patient's outfit.

The man looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. 'Don't I know you from somewhere? Does your brain hurt, too?'

'Of course you know him, Dane, you idiot!' said his angry voice. 'He's our enemy! He must be destroyed!'

Albert was alarmed, worried that Dane had somehow discerned his true identity and was about to back away when one of Dane's friendlier voices overrode the angry one. 'Don't mind him, he's an asshole. I love you. Do you love me?'

'Dane, I need to know about the Servitor process,' said Albert softly. 'What does it involve?'

'Life sucks,' said Dane, shifting his gaze to stare at the bare walls. 'But death sucks worse, and we can't go back in time to stop our birth, so what's the point?'

'I think he gets the point, asshole!' the angry voice scolded. 'He knows the Servitor process screws you! He knows this 'baptism machine' just messes…'

'Oh God!' said a new voice that Albert hadn't heard from Dane yet. This one sounded scared and on the verge of tears.

'Master, not God!' the angry voice corrected.

'At least I remember my own name,' said the crying voice. 'At least I still have that. Most of the other failures didn't, before they shot them. Not pretty corpses either. Nightkin target practice! And then there were the ones who lost their minds completely. I wish they were dead. Some of them get death. Eaten by the centaurs…'

'What did they _do_, Dane?' Albert pushed gently.

'Aren't you tired of talking with me?' Dane asked looking at him directly. 'Hasn't this just been incredibly tedious?'

He turned his head away and his expression grew angry again. 'Aren't you tired of talking with yourself, you schizo bastard!'

'I hate myself,' said the crying voice. 'I want to die, but you're counting on me. Counting on me to say something that makes all of my bullshit mean something! Something important!'

'Yes, that's right, Dane,' said Albert, making sure to address the man by his name as often as possible. Perhaps it would help bring him back to his sanity. It was becoming increasingl apparent that Dane was making some monumental effort to communicate with him. Albert just needed to encourage it. 'I'm counting on you, Dane.'

'You know,' said Dane, turning back to him and fixing him with a serene gaze. 'I used to think religion was a noble calling, and maybe it is; but you can't walk into it blindly or they'll take control of your brain… Zombies are a disgrace to God, you know?'

He turned his head away again and the crying voice took over. 'But why does God make people who break so easily?'

Dane abruptly fell silent and for a moment, Albert thought the young man had gone into a trance. Then Dane took a deep breath and when he spoke, he was at his calmest yet. 'I think I can finally answer some questions now,' he said. 'Sorry it took so long.'

'What did they _do _to you?' Albert asked.

'Dumped me in chemicals, filled me full of holes, played loud noises for me. That sort of shit. Tried to make me into something I'm not.' His composure shook a little. 'Parents do that all the time.'

'I used to hurt people bad, too.' It was the angry voice again, although it sounded a bit more subdued this time. 'I was a stud. Hell, I was a god! A tough god son of a bitch! But it wasn't enough! I was a goose-stepping fighting machine! But now I'm… I'm…' He turned to face Albert, his eyes pleading. 'Help me…'

Albert reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Dane's shoulder. 'Is that it?' he asked, pointing to the baptismal font outside. 'Is that where they did it.'

Dane nodded and the calm voice took over. 'This is the Baptismal. They make servitors here. When acolytes have been indoctrinated, they bring them here and they go through the process. A few of them survive… Most lose their minds, but they're still useful. They throw them downstairs, rant at them about the Master and let them walk around in a stupor. _You've _seen the zombies. Great slave labor – and soldiers…'

'John Brown's body is molderin' in the Grave,' came the singing voice. 'John Brown's body is molderin' in the Grave, John Brown's body is a-molderin' in the Grave, and the Master's screwing us overrrr…'

'Who is the Master, Dane?' asked Albert.

'Y'know, the Nightkin say he's uglier than they are. That means he must be one hideous son of a bitch. Maybe that's why he's creating the New World one Nightkin at a time. A kingdom of ugly sons of bitches.'

'Tell me about these Nightkin,' Albert urged. 'How were they created?'

'They're mutants. I've heard them talk. I'm very sneaky. I know all their secrets. They hate me. Hate me very much.' His voice was getting shakier, his words bordering on the hysterical. Albert suspected Dane's current lucidity was only temporary. 'I'm screwed, but this is only Phase 1 of the Cathedral Screwover Plan. When servitors get completely brainwashed, they go to Phase 2. That's when the Master baptizes them in FEV!'

Albert stood up straight at the name of the virus. This was what he had been looking for. 'Do they have it here? The FEV?'

'Some of it. Their factory up north has plenty. Enough for a mass baptism. But over here they only have a little. They save it for the pure.'

'The pure? What do you mean?'

'You need to be pure if you don't want to come out a mindless hulk of flesh. Even then, most die right there the moment they're dipped. But those who survive become mutants. _Big _mutants. Nightkin! The Master thinks that only the Nightkin can survive. He wants to make everyone Nightkin because they're tough! And you know all this Peace and Unity bullshit? It really isn't bullshit to the Master. He really thinks that he's saving the world!' Dane grimaced and looked like he was concentrating hard. 'It's getting harder to concentrate,' he groaned. He growled to himself as if trying to will himself to retain whatever sanity he had left. But then it departed in one fell swoop. His eyes brightened and he gave a huge grin. 'Ooops! I can't keep myself together anymore! Whee! Whee! Whee!'

'Dane! Stick with me!' Albert called out to him.

Dane looked away and his singing voice took over once more. 'Mother, did you think they'd drop a bomb? They did it with grace and such aplomb! My name is Dane, it is not Tom!'

'Your poetry sucks, man!' scolded the angry voice. 'It sucks! Sucks! Sucks!'

'Dane,' Albert repeated.

Dane looked at him again. 'Didn't we just meet?' he asked calmly and at first Albert thought he had gotten him back again. But the next words dashed Albert's hopes. 'Have you come to kill me?'

Albert looked back into his eyes and saw sadness hidden behind the artificial mirth. Instead of degenerating back into his schizophrenic monologue, Dane maintained the gaze. It was piercing and Albert found himself filled with pity for the man.

'I'm here to give you peace,' Albert said soothingly.

'Oh goodie! Peace and Unity!'

Dane looked away again and a mournful tone replaced the happy one. He looked up to the ceiling as if to the heavens. 'Master, was this what I was supposed to become, Master?' Tears welled in his eyes. 'Master, why won't you speak to me anymore? Master!'

'Be at peace,' Albert said gently but forcefully lowering Dane so that he was lying on the bed. Then Albert took one of the pillows and placed it against the side of Dane's head, took out his plasma pistol and pressed the barrel hard against the pillow while he cradled the other side of Dane's head for support with his other hand. He pulled the trigger.

The already muted sound of the plasma weapon was further muffled as the superheated green bolt melted both the pillow and Dane's head into a hot liquid goo that began to dissolve a hole into the head of the bed. Albert took the covers of the bed and pulled them over Dale's body.

Albert looked at his PIPBoy. Nearly ten minutes had passed. He had spent too much time down here already. He needed to be sure he could reach Morpheus before Natalia deactivated the generator.

He was about to exit the room and head for the stairs when he heard the sound of foosteps descending from above. Closing the door so that only a crack remained, he peeked out as a figure wearing purple robes came down the staircase. At the foot of the steps he turned and addressed someone behind him. As he did so, Albert saw the familiar narrow jawline and the hardened, cruel-looking features – it was the same man who had given the sermon in the recorded video, and Albert was willing to bet that this man was none other than Morpheus himself.

'You have done well,' said Morpheus. 'I will let the Master know of this and of your service. You in turn, must inform Uthern at once. Do not delay on this. I want the matter resolved before the night is up.'

'Yes, Father Morpheus,' said the other person. It was a woman's voice – a woman's voice that sounded vaguely familiar, though Albert couldn't quite place it. As she followed Morpheus down the steps, Albert saw that she too was dressed in robes, only of the regular kind that all the acolytes wore. First Morpheus and then the woman left through the door that lead into the small corridor beyond from whence Albert had entered. As Albert moved out from Dane's room into the Inner Sanctum, he heard the sound of two separate doors opening in the corridor. One door led back to the nave, the other to the secret stairway. And out of the two of them, only Morpheus had the key to the latter passageway. The leader of the Children was heading down below.

Tiptoeing forward, Albert slipped out into the small corridor just in time to see the door to the secret stairway closing. Albert made two large strides towards the door and stuck his hand into the gap just in time to prevent the door from closing all the way. As he did so, he noticed that in the center of the door was an indentation in the shape of the Children of the Cathedral's symbol. Albert glanced down at the red circular badge in his hands and turned it over to find, much to his great excitement, dozens of bumps and indentations scattered seemingly sporadically over the surface of the symbol. It was almost like… a key!

Albert tried to fit the badge into the slot in the door and turn it, but even though it fit, the badge wouldn't turn in either direction. _Oh well, worth a try_, Albert thought to himself. Morpheus' key, though similar in design, obviously had a different configuration that allowed it to unlock this particular door. In any case, Albert didn't really need it right there and then. He peeked through the open doorway and caught a glimpse of Morpheus descending the hidden staircase at the end of the passageway. Of the Nightkin sentry Laura had talked about who usually guarded the staircase, there was no sign. He had probably been called away due to the sudden outflux of Nightkin who had been sent to investigate the fires the Followers of the Apocalypse had started. This was his chance! Taking care to quieten the sound of his boots, Albert hurried over to the staircase and descended.

Down below, Albert found himself in a large, dimly lit, rectangular-shaped basement filled with multiple stone columns to support the weight of the Cathedral proper above. Interspersed with the columns were dozens of long wooden tables and chairs, as if this place had once functioned as a dining commons of sorts. It was a depressing sight as, in the dim light, the puke green color of the painted chairs and tables made them seem even older and more decrepit than they actually were. Off in the corner lay a pile of rotting and weathered wooden junk – furniture that the Children of the Cathedral had accumulated over the years but that had fallen prey to the aging of time and use. All along the walls were extremely dusty bookshelves filled with religious and philosophy books.

Spotting Morpheus, Albert flitted from column to column, trying to remain unseen and unheard. Finally, when Morpheus reached the end of the basement, he approached one of the bookshelves, pulled aside one of the large books, and reached for the hidden latch behind. As he pulled the latch, the wall next to the bookshelf quietly slid out of the way revealing a darkened passage. From where Albert stood, the passageway seemed almost pitch black.

As Morpheus made to enter the passageway, Albert panicked. This was the entrance that Laura had spoken of. Albert was sure he would need Natalia there with him when he went in. Who knew what new dangers they would face beyond? But if Morpheus went in now, there was no telling when he would be back. By then, the Nightkin who had gone out searching for the Followers could well have returned. Albert glanced down at his PIPBoy. Two minutes left on the clock before Natalia deactivated the generator.

Cursing, Albert stepped out from the cover of the pillar. 'Father Morpheus!' he called.

The thin, ugly scowl of the High Priest of the Children of the Cathedral turned and fixed him with its disapproving glare. 'I don't remember inviting anyone down here with me? And yet I have an unwanted visitor. Why?' His voice was cold, measured, and calm. And deadly. Like a venomous snake poised to strike.

For the first time, Albert felt a sense of anxiety going into a negotiaton. 'Because I have a such a deal for you…' he managed, as he walked purposefully towards Morpheus. 'It couldn't wait. When I saw you heading down, I had to follow.'

'Then you were lucky the Nightkin sentry was not present, or you would not have made it as far as you did. _Conveniently_ lucky, in fact. So tell me…' Morpheus stepped away from the secret passage. 'What could _you _possibly offer _me_?'

'I have pressing information about your enemies.'

'And who might my enemies be?' Morpheus said. His tone made it sound like he was testing Albert more than actually asking him a question.

'Well, the Followers, for one.'

'If you were referring to the pointless fires they started nearby, I already know they were behind it.'

'That was just the tip iceberg.' Sometimes the best diversion one could offer was a partial truth. Albert hoped he was doing the right thing.

'Tell me what you know.' Morpheus took a step closer. He wasn't carrying any weapon in his hands, but the sense of threat grew triplefold in an instant.

Albert mentally counted the seconds remaining on his two minute timer. It wouldn't be long now. 'I don't think so. Take me to the Master. Him, I'll tell.'

Morpheus clearly did not like that Albert had just talked past his authority. His voice developed an edge to it. 'Give me the information or die a slow… lingering… death.'

Albert glanced up at the dim lights. Still they remained steady. Why was it taking so long? He sighed, deciding on an unpleasant course of action. _This had better work._ 'Think the Master would be happy if you killed a vault dweller?' he said.

Morpheus took the bait. His eyes lit up even though his face was still set in a scowl. Only the corner of his lip turned up in a smug sneer. 'Ahh,' he said. 'So _you _are the vault dweller I've been hearing about. I was told you had made it to our Cathedral.' Albert couldn't tell if Morpheus was bluffing but the words came as a shock to him nevertheless. He hid his reaction well but Morpheus had seen right through it. 'Surprised? I have my sources. You were a fool to have come here… Albert.' Morpheus took his time in revealing that he had guessed Albert's identity. This time Albert flinched. 'Now, I will take you as a gift to the Master. He'll be very pleased.' Morpheus reached within his robes, Albert knew, for a gun. Albert briefly considered whether he should go for his own weapon or stop Morpheus.

The lights went out. Albert launched himself at the leader of the Children of the Cathedral. In the blackness his hands grasped hold of Morpheus' own and found a strength of resistance he had not been expecting from such a thin-looking man.

In the pitch darkness, the brawl became the most intense and harrowing fight Albert had ever been in. In every moment, he expected Morpheus' gun to fire and blow his brains out. Perhaps it was that realization that granted him extra strength in those few seconds. Releasing his hold of Morpheus hands for a moment, Albert struck out where he believed Morpheus' face would be. His fist hit hard bone and his arm went numb for a few seconds.

The weapon in Morpheus' hand went off and, to Albert's great surprise, it was a green glow and the familiar sound of a plasma discharge that greeted the both of them. Where on earth had Morpheus gotten hold of a plasma pistol like Albert's? The bolt sailed off into one of the bookshelves, melting a sizeable hole in two shelves of books. In the brief flash of illumination, Albert caught sight of Morpheus' face, twisted as it was into a diabolical snarl, and it was a terrifying visage to behold. Albert's hands went back for the gun.

They struggled for several more long seconds until Albert did the only other thing he could think of. He rammed his head directly into Morpheus' face. He head connected hard with Morpheus' nose. Morpheus' grip on his gun loosened for a brief moment. Albert hardened his grip, twisted the weapon, and reached for the trigger.

Another blast. Another flash of illumination. Morpheus gave a ragged gasp. And then it was all over. The fight had taken mere seconds but Albert could already feel the sweat beginning to form heavy droplets all over his body. He was breathing rapidly, his heart thumping louder and faster than he could ever remember.

Still blanketed in darkness, Albert reached for Morpheus' body and pulled it over to where he remembered seeing the pile of rotting junk. The body was lighter than he had expected it to be. Searching around Morpheus' corpse, Albert found the circular badge he had been looking for.

The lights flickered back on. Albert cursed. A large hole had been burnt into Morpheus' midsection. The Children's leader's legs still lay in the middle of the path where their fight had started. No wonder his body had seemed so light. But the particularly bad news was the fact that his purple robes had been ruined. Everything on the front of the robes from the waist down had been destroyed by the plasma.

Albert swore. He knew he hadn't had much of a choice. It had been a life-or-death struggle and if he hadn't pulled the trigger when he had, Morpheus, clearly stronger than Albert despite his age and size, might well have regained his edge. But still… Albert wasn't sure what he was going to do now. Perhaps there were others in the upper floors of the Cathedral who wore those robes. Perhaps Father Lasher, whom Laura and Dane had talked about, was somewhere in one of the rooms above.

After concealing Morpheus' upper body and legs beneath the broken furniture, Albert took the badge-key and headed back up. Fortunately, the Nightkin sentry still had not returned. Albert exited the passageway into the small corridor. The door automatically swung shut behind him but Albert wasn't worried. He was sure Morpheus' key would work.

Albert was just about to make his way back out into the nave when the door opened and Natalia herself came in. She looked like she was about to give an excuse for her entry when she recognized Albert, even under the robes Laura had given him.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'One of the Nightkin came in shortly after I deactivated the generator. I barely had any time to hide. I know I was supposed to give you more time. I should have just… blasted a hole into the damn thing.'

'Then the Nightkin would have realized something was amiss. As it is, he probably thought the old generator had gotten a cranky spasm or something. You did well, Natalia.'

'Did you… get it?'

'I got the key…' Albert flashed the badge at her. 'But the robes… we have a problem there.'

Albert led the way back to the door to the secret staircase. Morpheus' badge, similar in overall shape to the badge Laura had given them except that it was brown instead of red and had different indentations on the back, worked fine on the door. Fitting it into the trefoil-shaped lock, Albert turned the badge-key and was rewarded by a satisfyingly loud clank as the door reopened. They made it down the stairs and Albert pointed out Morpheus' corpse in three pieces and the ruined robes.

'Damn,' Natalia swore. Her quick eyes spotted the hole in one of the bookshelves where the first stray plasma blast had gone and her sharp mind rapidly reenacted what had happened. 'Well, let's at least see what we've got in front of us before we decide on looking for another solution.' Albert pointed over to where the secret entrance was located and they both headed that way.

At the bookshelves, Albert was about to identify the book Morpheus had pulled to reveal the hidden latch when Natalia automatically went for it herself. She reached behind and pulled the latch. The wall concealing the hidden entrance slid aside silently.

'How did you know that?' Albert asked in amazement.

'Dust,' Natalia said simply. Albert looked and realized she was right. The space in front of the book was the only place on the bookshelf that was dust-free due to its frequent use. Albert felt even more relieved that Natalia was with him right there and then.

As they stood there by the entrance, a disturbing but familiar sound came echoing out of the darkness. It was a slimy, wet, hungry, gurgling, inhuman noise. There was no mistaking it. It was the same sound they had heard from the sewers in Necropolis. And what was worse, this time there were multiple sources of the sound. Whatever it was that waited for them there in the darkness had company.

Natalia gave a heavy exhalation. 'Are you ready?' she said. She reached out her hand. Standing on the threshold leading into the darkness, as silly as the notion seemed, the need for some kind of physical comfort became suddenly acute. Albert reached out and grasped her hand, squeezing tightly. His heart beat loudly in his chest but the warmth of her touch offered some reassurance. Together they walked through the entryway and into the darkness that awaited them.


	29. Chapter 28: Words of Hope and Doom

This is, like,the shortest chapter I've ever written, excluding the intro.

Thanks to those who gave me the feedback I was seeking regarding the last chapter! Here's another short chapter. And remember how I said something like 4 chapters ago that there would probably only be about 5 more? Yeah... that's not going to happen. So long as I keep having these short interim chapters, it's going to take more than that. So, for better or worse, this novelization still has a little more to go before the end. Anyway, I think the next chapter is going to (finally) be entitled: The Master.

Also, it has just struck me that it is very likely that this is currently not only the longest but also the most viewed, reviewed, and followed Fallout 1 fanfiction on this website so far - certainly not what I was expecting when I started it. Actually, that might be more because of the lack of alternatives in the Fallout 1 section. Still, many thanks to you faithful readers for being involved in the story's ongoing progression!

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Words of Hope and Doom**

Alex had taken three wolfing mouthfuls of his brahmin steak before he caught himself. He looked up sheepishly at his lunch companion. In person, Jennifer was five-foot-six – two inches shorter than Alex. But in her T-51b power armor, she stood more than a head-and-a-half above him. Even seated down at the table, her armored bulk dwarfed him noticeably. She reached a gauntleted hand for her nutritional shake. She lifted the large tumbler and sucked from the enormous straw.

'I still can't get used to just how physically insignificant I feel standing or sitting next to you in that monster of a suit,' said Alex.

'I only _have _a thirty-minute lunch break,' Jennifer replied. 'It'd take me that long just to get out of and back into this thing.'

'So you have to drink those protein shakes everytime you're on duty?' Alex made a face. Although it was possible for someone in power armor to handle objects as delicate as utensils, doing so required a lot of finesse and far too much time, hence the introduction of easily consumable nutritional lunch beverages.

'It's not so bad once you get used to it.' Jennifer paused and thought over what she had just said. 'Actually, it gets worse the more you get used to it,' she corrected herself.

'Here.' Alex cut off a sizeable sliver of meat, skewered it on the tines of his fork, and offered the morsel up to her lips. He had to stretch just to reach her mouth. Jennifer hesitated for a moment, and Alex wasn't sure if he had just crossed into her personal space. But then, to his delight, she accepted the offering, her lips compressing neatly over the fork. Her eyes closed in bliss as she relished the savory gravy and the firm but juicy texture of the steak.

Alex was mesmerized. Even though the only part of her that wasn't covered by enormous shiny plates of high-grade metal was her neck and head, he enjoyed every tiny expression that she made: the way her lashes fluttered close as she concentrated on her food; the working of her strong jaws as her teeth grinded the piece of meat down into more manageable sizes; the flexing of her throat as she swallowed the food; and the smallest sigh of pleasure that escaped her mouth as she savored the striking change of taste and texture from her usual afternoon nutritional drink. The entire process took mere seconds and it really was just a mundane act of chewing and swallowing; yet to Alex, time seemed to slow to a crawl and every expression of hers became magnified tenfold. Even her moan became protracted, igniting a flicker of arousal within him.

He heard a chuckle two tables down and noticed two other knights who had witnessed the exchange between himself and Jennifer. Alex noticed he was still holding the fork in mid-air, just inches away from her lips, and returned the utensil back to his plate.

'Damn,' she sighed. 'What did you do to get _that _for lunch? I'm positive that's not on our regular menu.'

'Oh, I just made a significant contribution to the designs for the power armor,' Alex said nonchalantly. 'Earned me a pretty neat bonus.'

'You?' Jennifer gave a quick laugh. 'What do you know about power armor?'

'I know,' Alex said, getting up from his seat and circling her so he could approach from behind, 'that if a stray blast catches this small compartment where the armor's systolic motivator is housed…' He tapped a section of the microfusion generator pack that made up the back of her armor. '… your armor will shutdown and you'll be stuck inside it with no way out until someone decides to replace the unit or manually disassemble the suit. It's almost impossible to hit if you're not looking for it, but if someone ever grew wise to that weakspot and positioned sharpshooters in the correct places, the Brotherhood would be significantly disadvantaged.'

'I'm impressed,' said Jennifer. 'What _other _tricks do you have up your sleeve?'

'Well, I figured out a way to hotwire the injectors in my rifle's plasma chamber to accelerate the bolt formation process. It now fires thirty-three-percent faster than it used to.'

'Are you talking about that thing you brought in from the Ancient Order?'

'The same one. Only it's thirty-three-percent more awesome now.'

Jennifer shook her head in admiration. 'Why are you bothering with field training? You could do _so _much at a workbench.'

Alex grimaced. It was, in essence, the same thing Albert had said before he had left with Natalia. 'I can't just sit safely behind a desk while all my friends are out risking their lives,' Alex said. 'And, hey, I've already aced the written tactics test ahead of all the others who've been studying and training for weeks already. I just have to pass the practical test and I'm good to go. Knight Paul even said I may get my own squad if I'm lucky.'

'_If _you're lucky,' Jennifer challenged playfully. 'Did he also tell you that I'll be in the opposition team for that test?'

'_Really_?' Alex's eyes glimmered with excitement. 'That should be fun.'

'You _know _I'm not going to go easy on you, right?'

'I wouldn't want you to.'

Alex heard footsteps nearing their table and turned to see Tycho's affable smile and familiar bald pate. The man was back from his scouting expedition. 'I hear you've become a knight-in-training,' he said, clapping Alex firmly on the back. It was clear the larger man was happy to see him after almost four days of scouting.

'_You're _back early,' said Alex. 'Wasn't it supposed to take six days just to _get _to the base, wherever it is?'

'We ambushed a patrol heading towards Necropolis, probably to bolster the forces already there.' Tycho lifted up the edge of his trenchcoat to reveal a number of tattered bullet holes in them. 'Those super mutants pack a mean punch. We took them with no casualties, but _man_… miniguns, rocket launchers, flamethrowers, laser rifles…' Even though the fight had taken place two days ago, it was clear that the thrill of being in an intense armed conflict and coming out alived and unscathed was still rushing through Tycho's veins.

'I should have been there helping you guys out,' Alex said sullenly.

'You'll get your chance,' said Tycho. 'We may _all _get that chance if we don't hit them at their source soon.'

'So… you came back to restock on supplies?'

'And alert the Brotherhood that the super mutants have likely chosen Necropolis as their staging point for a major offensive. This bunker doesn't fall on the path between their base up north and Necropolis to the southeast, but if the army grows much larger, they _may_ just end up stumbling upon this place by accident.'

'Well, convince the Elders to let me follow you the next time you're heading out then. The more manpower you have, the better.'

'You still have your field test. And besides, we're moving out again tomorrow morning. This time, we're going all the way north and we likely won't be coming back until we've found something.' Alex looked crestfallen. 'We _will_ have a resupply drop point set up along the way, however. If you impress your instructors enough, I'm sure they'll let you go that far.'

'I will,' Alex said confidently responding to both clauses of Tycho's last statement.

* * *

><p>The door slid close behind her, muffling out the din of the conversations between the members of the Vault's "Exodus" group. Pat allowed her shoulders to slump as she sighed loudly. She made her way back to her room. Her roommate was in the same group, so Pat had the room to herself, at least for the moment.<p>

She fired up her computer and keyed in the command directory and password to grant her remote access to the Overseer's personal computer. It was a little trick Alex had worked on for months before leaving. Theresa had activated the program shortly after Albert, Alex, Natalia, that outsider Tycho, and their dog Dogmeat had been sent out again. The computer worm had originally been meant to grant them access to the Vault's sensory computers, so the Exodus could have direct access to the Vault's surface readings. But after the Overseer's last stunt, sending out Albert and the rest less than three days after they had returned, Theresa had suggested they take more desperate measures.

It had seemed like a reasonable, if illicit, suggestion at the time, but now Pat wasn't so sure. She hit the replay button on the video clip in one of the Overseer's personal folders. It was a recording of the hidden camera positioned in the cave just outside the outer vault door. The first time Pat had seen Albert stab Lyle in the gut and then execute him with a blast to the head, she had been utterly shocked, paralyzed, and even revolted. But then she recalled everything they had talked about before he had left again. And, of course, how could she forget that Lyle and his partner in crime had been about to kill her when Albert and Natalia had intervened. It didn't make his actions right. But it did make them understandable. And his protectiveness over those he cared about was simultaneously both moving and disturbing.

She reached out a hand, her fingers almost touching the image of Albert…

The door hissed open and Pat abruptly dropped her hand from the computer monitor.

'You're missing the after-party,' said Theresa.

'It's not my scene,' Pat explained gently.

'Not your scene? All of them looked to _you _for leadership while Albert and I were gone. Heck, some of them _still _look to you for leadership even now. You have to know that some of what is involved in convincing others to your point of view comes from mundane social interactions. It's not _all _speeches and public statements, y'know.'

'I know,' Pat said a little wearily.

Theresa frowned and peeked over at the monitor. 'That still bothers you, doesn't it?' Theresa had been the only one Pat had showed it to. After that, Theresa had made sure no one else had access to Alex's hacking program. No one else could know what Albert had done. It could undermine his credibility. Or… perhaps even more worrying than that, it could incite the other members of the Exodus to similar acts. No wonder the Overseer had made no public mention of it… It was also no wonder the Overseer had sent Albert out again.

'How can it _not _bother me?' Pat replied.

'He wasn't even that far gone when I was out there with him,' said Theresa, remembering how cold he had been in the Hub. 'But I guess he was already headed down that road… It's like he doesn't even care about the people of Vault-13 anymore. He's probably happier out there now.'

'Oh, no, Theresa, that's not it at all,' Pat corrected her friend. 'We talked for hours when I was in that hospital bed. You should have seen him. If not for the Overseer, he'd still be here now… of his _own _choice. He _wanted _to be back here – to put aside all those horrible things he had done.'

'Horrible things…' Theresa looked a little uneasy.

'He told me about the Khans and Gizmo and what happened to Stone and their other companion Ian…'

'Huh. He told you more than he told me,' Theresa said, managing to sound both impressed and slightly jealous at the same time.

Pat was silent. She had deliberately left out Doc Morbid and the blackmailing of Iguana Bob. It was strange. Those were the things that were least physically threatening. No one had died or gotten physically hurt. And yet those were the events Albert had obsessed over the most in his conversation with her – they were the symbolic markers of the breakdown of whatever hopeful and idealistic conceptions of post-nuclear society he had once held.

'He's not a monster,' said Pat, gazing sadly at the paused image on the screen. 'He's a man beginning to get crushed under the weight on his shoulders. He doesn't show it, but it's wearing down heavily on him. He needs someone… or something to ground him.'

Theresa smiled knowingly. 'Trust me, sister, it's not a woman that he needs. I know. I've been there.'

'Maybe not,' Pat said wistfully. 'Maybe his friends will be enough.'

'Or his _dog_.'

Pat smiled at the thought. 'Maybe.'

Theresa pulled Pat, on her wheeled office chair, over to where Theresa could take a seat on Pat's bed. Theresa sat down and held both of Pat's hands in her own, smiling understandingly and gently. 'I know what it is you're feeling, dear. I felt the same way when he first left. Albert has that way with the people who follow him, _especially_ those who spend a lot of time with him and his ideas and plans. But you don't want to do this. I know I'm sounding like a sore loser right now, after what happened between the two of us, but… I just don't want you to get hurt. Albert's not the same person he was before he left the Vault. He's teetering on the edge of an abyss.'

Pat squeezed Theresa's hands in return. 'I know,' she said. 'And that's why I can't help but feel like I've got to be there to bring him back.'

* * *

><p>The Elder of the Children of the Cathedral named VanHagan waited in the office, guarded by two super mutants armed with what were possibly the most intimindating weapons he had ever laid eyes on. They were the H&amp;K L30 Gatling Lasers – weapons designed specifically for military use, much like their six-barreled cousin, the chaingun. However, unlike that dated weapon, the gatling laser's six barrels fired bursts of laser beams instead of 5mm ammunition. VanHagan had seen the Nightkin at the Cathedral with their laser rifles; he had seen the damage those things could do. But the rifles had always been limited by their tendency to overheat when overused. <em>This<em> monster of a weapon, in contrast, took all the awesome damaging power of the laser rifle, sextupled it, and threw away its one weakness. It was a weapon of elites and only the elite of the Lieutenant's army used it.

VanHagan was so busy marveling at the impressive size of the gatling lasers that he didn't register the sound of heavy clomping boots heading his way. The door to the office opened and the immense bulk of the biggest super mutant VanHagan had ever seen filled its frame. The Lieutenant of the Master's armies had arrived.

Although VanHagan had met him before, he nevertheless found himself quaking in his boots all over again. There was just no way one could get used to being in the presence of the Lieutenant. There was only one thing more terrifying than coming face-to-face with the Lieutenant, and that was coming face-to-face with the Master himself. Thankfully, VanHagan only had to do that twice before.

Like all the other super mutants, the Lieutenant had a thick elastic band around the back of his head and under his oversized upper lip, pulling it back to reveal large yellow teeth and giving the impression that he was baring his teeth in a growl – a necessary accessory to allow the super mutants to actually be able to talk past their oversized mutated upper lips. And like other super mutants, the Lieutenant had big, prominent, hairless supraorbital ridges that protruded far over his eyes. However, that was where the resemblance ended.

For one, unlike the other mutants, the Lieutenant stood a clear head above any of the other super mutants. The ridges over his eyes had also twisted into an angled position after his mutation, making it appear as if they were always furrowed in anger. The top of his scalp had peeled away long ago; VanHagan could see the bloody jagged edges of thick, cracked, green flesh that bordered a curved metal plate that protected his otherwise exposed brain. A string of wires protruded from the metal skull and were plugged into a large electronic ocular piece that was comprised of a headset – that ran around the back of his head and cupped the two holes where his ears would have been – and an ocular device that completely covered his right eye (or perhaps _replaced _it). The electronic eye was a huge bulging red orb that moved independently of his other good eye. To VanHagan, it was like looking at a blood-red eyeball, with an even darker red pupil, that jutted way too far out of its socket.

In terms of his attire, instead of the black plates of armor that the Nightkin and some the super mutant shock troopers normally wore, the Lieutenant had large brass-colored pauldrons, pitted with age, but still gleaming enough to give him an even more intimidating aura. Where most super mutants wore only handmade boots, knee-guards, and jockstraps, the Lieutenant wore a full-length pair of pants that began from the waist and reached all the way down to his boots, made of some kind of stretchy black material so that the fabric could actually cover the immense bulk of his legs. Finally, some kind of a metal device had been strapped around his midsection and connected to an energy pack of some kind that was attached to his back. Like the metal skull on his head, wires protruded out of he energy pack, connected not only to the metal device around the Lieutenant's torso but also directly into his spine. There was no way around it. This monster of a super mutant was, in some ways, also part machine.

'Your report, VanHagan,' said the Lieutenant. His voice was a charming, refined, rumbling growl. VanHagan had almost forgotten how it sounded. The Lieutenant was exceptionally polite and eloquent in his tone and speech. Yet even though his words were calm and measured on the surface, they only thinly veiled the danger that bubbled just below. VanHagan knew he should have had nothing to fear, but he feared anyway. He feared _greatly_.

VanHagan cleared his throat. 'The… Master is pleased with your progress, but…' VanHagan scratched at the sweat beginning to form on his brow. 'But he instructed me to tell you that his need is great and time is limited.'

The Lieutenant made a short amused noise that somehow managed to sound menacing. _Can it be? _VanHagan thought to himself. _Is the Lieutenant unafraid of the Master himself? _He would certainly be the only person VanHagan would ever have known to show such nonchalance when in a conversation about the Master.

'The Master should know that raw material is limited,' said the Lieutenant. 'We cannot create our soldiers without more stock.'

VanHagan took a deep breath. 'He is aware of your problems and is working on it as we speak.'

'Tell me of his plans. We will need to coordinate activities if the Unity is to succeed,' the Lieutenant impressed upon him, placing a firm hand on VanHagan's shoulder and leading the relatively tiny man over to take a seat on the metal chair in the middle of the room. VanHagan knew this chair; the Lieutenant usually sat prisoners on it – prisoners whom he was going to interrogate. But with the Lieutenant's enormous arm on his shoulder, VanHagan had no choice but to take the seat.

VanHagan thought over his words carefully. No mistakes. He hoped the Lieutenant would take what he was about to say next as good news; with the Lieutenant one could never tell. 'The Master has become aware of an undiscovered, and living, Vault,' he said. The Lieutenant's one good eye brightened at the revelation. The dark red pupil in his electronic eye dilated. Encouraged by having pleased the Lieutenant, VanHagan continued more confidently. 'With that much raw material, we can create a great force – even greater than what we have now. According to the prediction software, it will be the numbers we need to succeed.'

'Excellent. This is most fortuitous,' said the Lieutenant, his voice like dripping honey laced with poison. His expression grew more serious for a moment. 'Are the inhabitants contaminated?'

'Oh, this is the best part,' VanHagan said, excited now, his earlier fears fading in the face of the Lieutenant's own enthusiasm. 'If their representative is any example, they are clean. _Pure-strain_.'

'"Their representative"…' The Lieutenant sounded pleasantly surprised. 'Oh, this is most exciting.' His growling tone and crisp, clipped pronunciation made him sound more diabolically gleeful than excited. 'What Vault is it that we plunder?'

'Vault-13,' said VanHagan. 'And we shall have them soon. Very soon.'


	30. Chapter 29: Path to the Unity

I am going to offer an explanatory paragraph for why this chapter isn't labelled like how I said it was going to be labelled in the previous chapter. However, since the explanation reveals the mood for this chapter, I'm going to paste this paragraph at the END of all the text in this chapter, just in case you don't want to see any of that right upfront.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Path to the Unity**

Heather, scout for the Followers of the Apocalypse and spy for the Children of the Cathedral, had made it to the first line of buildings beyond the Cathedral when she was rudely accosted by an angry-looking dog.

'Nice doggie,' she said, reaching beneath the folds of her robes for her knife.

'That's "Dogmeat", not "doggie",' came a voice from behind her. 'He has a taste for traitors.'

'Katja,' Heather said in realization, turning around to meet her adversary. 'I thought you hated dogs.' She paused as she found herself facing an empty space. Of Katja there was no sign.

'I hate traitors even more,' came Katja's voice again. This time it was right behind her. Heather spun around just as Katja deactivated the Stealth Boy on her wrist. Heather caught sight of Katja's knife materializing into visibility just as it raked a gash across her neck. Katja followed it up with a second knife to Heather's gut.

Heather sank to her knees, one hand on the spurting wound in her neck, the other on her stomach. She tried to give a last response but all that came out was a gurgle.

'Alright,' said Katja, turning to Dogmeat. 'I hate to do this to you, boy, but you're going to stand out if I take you there. So I need you to wait here, just for a bit, while I look for Albert and Natalia. I'll be back before you know it.'

Dogmeat gave an annoyed whine but stayed put.

'Let's hope I'm not too late,' Katja said to herself as she stepped out of the cover of the buildings and approached the Cathedral.

* * *

><p>The tunnel wasn't quite as pitch black as it had seemed from outside the secret entrance, but it was still dark enough that Albert had difficulty adjusting his eyes to the gloom. Natalia, with her better vision, slowly led the way forward. As they progressed, they were always aware of the slimy slithering sounds coming from somewhere up ahead.<p>

The tunnel they had found themselves in snaked its way onward until it opened out a few minutes later into a large cavern. Albert's eyes were slowly acclimating and Natalia had to pull him down beside some large stalacmites the moment they emerged into the wider space of the cavern.

'What is it?' Albert whispered.

'Movement.' At the end of the cavern further ahead, another tunnel provided the only other passageway out of the cavern. It was from there that the only meager source of light illuminating the darkened cavern originated. But it was not on the tunnel but on the rest of the cavern that Natalia had her eyes focused. As she strained to see into the darkness on either side, shadowy silhouettes slowly began to take form. And as she continued to stare into the blackness, her eyes widened with growing terror.

Dozens of long mutated creatures slithered on fleshy colubrine tails, their upper bodies raised like cobras preparing to strike. But instead of a serpentine head and puffed up reptilian hood, what lay at the top of each of the snakelike columns was a large fleshy organ with bulbous ganglions hanging down from the bladder-like head. Amazingly, despite its size, instead of dragging the body down, the organ seemed to float in midair, as if it were filled with some kind of low density gas. Already the sight of something that shouldn't even have existed naturally was revolting enough, but it was only when one of them lowered its "head" that Natalia caught a glimpse of the most repulsive part of the creature.

Sitting atop the organ was what appeared to be a giant reddish sphincter muscle that pulsated as the creature moved, emitting, as it did so, a foul sour stench – the same unmistakable smell they had detected in the sewers of Necropolis. The gurgling noise that emerged from its opening and closing orifice only confirmed Albert and Natalia's suspicions that it was the same creature they had detected in the City of the Dead.

Never had they even imagined that such malformed mutated creatures could possibly emerge in a post-nuclear wasteland. This was no simple giant version of a pre-War animal. It _did _bear vague resemblances to some kind of snake or worm-like creature, but what it had now become was so alien to anything the vault dwellers had ever seen, even in the Vault's pre-war vids, that it was as if they were staring at a completely new species of creature whose very existence was anathema to the very order of existence and nature.

Albert had only began to make out the outlines of these twisted-looking creatures when he and Natalia heard movement from the tunnel ahead, prompting the two of them to slink down even lower behind their stalacmites. As they watched, a figure from the tunnel opening, lit a flare, and hurled it off into the widest space of the cavern. Immediately the slithering creatures turned their floating organs in the direction of the flare and propelled themselves towards it. It was difficult to tell how they had detected it, however, since neither Albert nor Natalia could detect any kind of eyes or noses on the creatures.

Standing at a distance from the flare, Albert and Natalia could now make out the newcomers to the cave. The one who had thrown the flare was a man dressed in the purple robes of the Children of the Cathedral. However, the two people he had before him were attired in rags and seemed to be in some kind of daze. The robed man led the other two to one of the cavern's large stone column that stretched from floor to ceiling.

'You stay here,' he ordered one of the other men, then dragged the other by his arm towards the flare. Neither of the two men in rags resisted.

When the robed man had led the way as close as he dared to the flare, he moved behind the man in rags and, to Albert and Natalia's shocked dismay, gave the man a sudden forceful shove. The man stumbled forward and fell to his knees just a few feet away from the flare.

In unison, the slithering creatures darted towards the man at unbelievable speeds. As they neared, they each lowered their heads and from each of the orifices at the top of their main organs emerged three or four-foot-long tongues that darted towards the hapless man. The man was struck repeatedly by almost a dozen of those awful appendages that covered him with their slimy residue.

The man screamed as the liquid permeated his skin. Albert and Natalia couldn't see any physical damage but the he was clearly in a lot of pain. Finally roused from his previous stupor, he pushed himself off the ground and turned to run. But he hadn't made it more than three steps when whatever poison was in the liquid that now covered his body began to take rapid effect. He stumbled again and collapsed face-first on the ground.

In an instant, the monsters were on top of him in a writhing mass of tendril-like bodies that had suddenly become even more frantic in their movements as the creatures fed on their unfortunate victim. Even as Albert and Natalia continued to watch in morbid horror, the robed agent of the Children walked back to the other man, his intentions clear. To both the vault dwellers' surprise, the other man offered no reaction to what had just transpired. It was as if he had not even seen or heard what had happened to his other companion.

'Come on, we've got to stop him,' said Albert, referring to the acolyte. He moved to make a dash for the stone column where the other man in rags was waiting but Natalia grabbed his arm to stop him. Albert looked to where she was pointing and his face paled.

The creatures with the floating organs had been monstrous enough. But now, scuttling rapidly out of the darkest corner of the cavern came the ghastliest abomination yet. The creature was the size of a bear – except one that was hairless and had two heads instead of one. The first head was that of a slobbering hairless hound with a spiked metal collar around its neck, sitting atop an incredible elongated, very human-looking, neck. But the other was even worse: it was an armless torso and head of what could only have once belonged to a human body. But even the head looked wrong. It was bald and lumpy with drooping eyes and an overly large mouth. Something akin to a tongue but thinner and longer snaked in and out of its mouth. Its neck was heavily scarred, some of its wounds still raw and bleeding. Albert and Natalia surmised that these wounds had most likely been caused by the vicious snapping fangs of the other canine head that, even as they watched, occasionally turned its attention on its partner-human-head despite the fact that they shared the same body. Indeed, even as the mutant thing raced for the fallen man, temporarily scattering the other thinner serpentine organisms as it did so, the dog-head still snapped angrily, and perhaps, hungrily, at the human head which, in turn, did its best to pull away from the hound's teeth.

What, perhaps, was worst of all to witness was that the beast's six legs were not actually legs. Instead they were humanoid arms bent at the elbows like a human crawling on the ground. With these six arms that functioned as legs, the creature scuttled across the cavern floor like a giant spider – one that seemed to have come straight out of the the worst possible eldritch nightmare. And as if the scurrying spiderlike movements were not enough, the mutated creature also had a mass of rapidly wriggling fleshy red tentacles that extended outwards from under its body and scrabbled madly at the stony ground like centipede legs, as if they could propel it even faster to its next meal.

For the longest moment, the two vault dwellers could do nothing but stare with mouths agape, their senses reeling. Such a thing – a mad fusion of at least two separate animals – should not even have existed and yet there it stood, both its heads feasting on the body of the fallen man.

The two vault dwellers probably have stood there, stunned and unmoving for hours if the one remaining man in rags hadn't suddenly cried out. 'Rick is a living god!' he yelled abruptly. 'You cannot kill the genius of the all!'

Realizing the danger he was creating, the acolyte of the Children raced back to shut the other man up. At the same time, shaken out of their stupor by the commotion, Albert and Natalia raced to reach the man first.

'Silence, fool!' the acolyte hissed as he reached the other man. He grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and shook him violently.

Albert came up behind the two of them and quickly pistol-whipped the acolyte on the back of his head. As the man fell to his knees, Albert finished him with one more blow.

'Better be quick,' Natalia warned him. 'I don't want those things wandering over here. Some of them still haven't had their fill.'

'We'll need to give them a distraction,' said Albert.

Working as quickly as his jittery fingers could manage, Albert freed the acolyte from his robes, hoisted the unconscious and semi-naked man onto his shoulders, then walked towards the gathering misshapen creatures.

He was making good progress when suddenly, one of the floating-organ creatures darted towards him so quickly that he nearly fell trying to get out of its way. For a moment, Albert thought he was done for. Even have seen the thing move before, Albert had misjudged just how quick it actually was. Before Albert could drop the body and flee, the creature was upon him. From somewhere behind, he heard Natalia give an audible gasp.

Amazingly, however, the wormy creature only seemed interested in the acolyte's body, its extendable tongue shooting forward to cover the corpse with its poisonous slime. Two more of the snakelike creatures slithered right past him Albert from behind, again ignoring him and focusing only on the corpse. It was as if the creatures somehow knew not to attack the wearer of the purple robes… which was a very good fortuitious thing, Albert realized, or he was sure he would have been in the same position as the first man.

When he got as close as he dared to the rest of the crowd of deformed creatures, Albert tossed the body off his shoulders as far as he could, then beat a hasty retreat back to Natalia. Those mutants that were not already gorging themselves on the first body quickly turned their attentions onto the new one. As he fled, Albert realized he had just condemned the man to a gruesome death. But at least the man was unconscious and, besides, Albert told himself, it was a punishment justly deserved.

'Put the robes on, quickly,' said Natalia as Albert returned to her and the stone column that hid them from the sight of the mutants.

'Has he said anything else?' Albert asked as Natalia helped him into the robes, referring to the man they had rescued.

'He keeps saying only th—'

'the nullified may pass,' the man finished. 'Only the nullified may pass. The walls have minds, alive with those who have gone before. Only the nullified may pass.'

'What are you—' Albert began, before he saw Natalia shaking her head. She had already tried and failed to get the man to explain what he meant.

'Meeting of the soul… melded with, to protect, the Master of all.'

'Is he referring to that… thing?' Albert looked over at the dog-human-spider-creature.

Natalia shrugged. 'He just keeps talking about the Master and those in the wall and the nullified. He doesn't seem to see or hear us.'

'There is only peace and joining… the price… the pain… one must be blind… nulled. Only the nullified may pass.'

'What should we do with—' Albert began to say when they heard footsteps coming from the same tunnel up ahead where the now-throroughly-masticated acolyte had originally arrived from with his two braindead companions. The foosteps were coming fast. Too fast.

'You there!' came the voice of the new acolyte, also in purple robes. Natalia had been standing close enough to the stone column to pull back behind it. The rambling man in rags was already beside her, hidden from view of the new acolyte. Albert wasn't quite so lucky.

Albert quickly pulled the hood of the purple robes over his head. He knew he was probably to far for the acolyte to recognize him as one of the vault dwellers the Children were hunting for. Even so, no point taking an added risk.

'Why are you dallying about in the caves?' the man demanded. 'You should know the holy purple only keeps the floaters at bay for so long. And if the centaur catches a whiff of you, you're done for…'

'Uh… thank you for the warning,' Albert called back. 'I had not known they were quite so vicious.'

'Who _are _you anyway? It is obvious you do not belong here.'

Albert thought quickly. 'I am Loki, an initiate from the south. I was sent out by the Master a long time ago, even before this great Cathedral was built, hence my… ignorance of these creatures' tendencies. If not for your timely arrival, I might have suffered a rather grisly fate.'

'The south?' The acolyte seemed to grow only more suspicious. 'That's rather odd… I've never heard of you.'

'I am of the High Order. Only the Master and Morpheus know of me in order to ensure my safety on the outside. But I have been called back by the order of the Master to join the rest as we move in on the settlements to the north.'

'I see,' said the man. 'Please forgive me. I apologize for questioning you. If I can be of any service, let me know.'

'That won't be necessary.'

The acolyte seemed to pause, caught in a moment's thought. 'Actually, if you have never been down here before, you likely don't know about the Corridor.'

'Nno…' Albert said a little uncertainly.

'You had best come with me. Without the proper protection, you will not make it ten paces.'

Albert hesitated. If he followed the man, he and Natalia would be separated. They hadn't even discussed what their next course of action was going to be.

'That won't be necessary,' said Albert, stalling for time. 'The Master informed me of the steps I would need to take.'

'Even so,' the man persisted, 'the guards at the entrance to the vault will shoot on sight if you don't know the proper procedure.'

Albert's eyes widened beneath the shade of his hood. _A vault! _So _that_ was what the Cathedral was hiding! Albert couldn't tell what the significance of this new discovery was, but it felt too much like going full-circle for comfort. There was something sinister going on here – something that directly involved himself, Natalia, Alex, and Vault-13. Albert just didn't know what. Yet.

The man at the entrance to the tunnel up ahead stood waiting impatiently. Albert realized he couldn't refuse the man's offer twice, not without causing obvious suspicion.

'Go,' he heard Natalia whisper from behind her hiding place. 'I'll find another way in.'

Steeling himself, Albert walked forward.

With Natalia and the crazy man in rags left behind in the cave, Albert and the other robed acolyte made their way back down the tunnel from whence the acolyte had come. As they travelled further down, the light up ahead grew stronger. Albert knew what it was even before they turned the next corner in the tunnel – it was the sanitary white illumination emerging from the inside of a vault. The only difference was that this light was significantly dimmer – enough to see but also enough to make the Vault seem but a shadow of what it had once been a long time ago.

Ahead stood the all-too-familiar-looking cog-shaped entrance, the large outer door having been rolled to the side to allow entry. It was like coming home, except that the two large blue-skinned Nightkin guarding the entrance gave the sense of déjà vu a certain forbidding quality to it. That and the dim, flickering lights in the passageway within. As Albert and his guide approached the guards, Albert couldn't help but think of Vault-13 under super mutant control. All of a sudden, the Overseer's concerns about a mutant invasion of the Vault seemed much more plausible. Even though they didn't know where Vault-13 was or perhaps even of its existence, they certainly knew that vaults _did _exist, and that meant that they would be on the lookout for other vaults.

'Blessings to you, brother,' the acolylte called to the guards. 'Praise to the Unity. I am Brother Jeremiah. This is Brother Loki. I am escorting him to see the Master.'

'We were not told to expect a brother Loki,' said one of the mutants.

'He is of the High—'

Albert interrupted him. It was possible these super mutant guards might know more about the actual hierarchy of the Children of the Cathedral than this acolyte. 'I bear important news from the expedition in the south,' he interrupted with authority. 'You have no right to stop and question me.' Jeremiah's eyes widened with shock at the way Albert had just spoken to the Nightkin guard.

'I know of no—' the mutant began.

'Precisely!' Albert interrupted.

A brief tense moment passed in which Albert wasn't sure if the mutant was going to open fire on him with his laser rifle. Then the Nightkin relented.

'Very well, you may pass,' he said finally. Albert breathed an inward sigh of relief. 'But unless it is urgent news, I would suggest you hold off on your meeting with the Master. Uthern will be arriving with the prisoners soon. The Master will want to hear his report before all else.'

_Prisoners? What prisoners? _Albert thought. It couldn't be the Followers of the Apocalypse scouts, could it? They had had such a long headstart to flee back to Adytum. Unless… what if they had decided to do something more, just as Albert had encouraged them to do back at the Library in Adytum? But even if they had, surely they would not have tried something that was bound to get them caught, would they? Albert cursed silently. He hoped that wasn't the case.

'We will keep that in mind,' said Jeremiah. Stunned by the sudden revelation, Albert followed without a further word as Jeremiah led the way into the vault.

As they emerged into the main lobby and past the EML, Albert noticed that Jeremiah was holding an electronic datapad in his hands. Temporarily putting the disturbing thought of prisoners to the back of his mind, Albert asked about the man's work.

'They're human purity reports for the surrounding areas.' He showed Albert the datapad with its summarized list of locations, many of them familiar to Albert. He tapped the icon of a map. An image of California and Nevada filled the screen. Albert could recognize places like Adytum, the Hub, and Junktown that had been tagged on the map. His eyes traveled further north on the map and located Shady Sands. And then… To the west lay the icon of a flag with a large circular perimeter with dotted lines around it.

'What's this flag here?' he asked.

'That was the final bit of news I was able to get out of our informant – the location of a possible lost vault.' Albert's blood ran icy cold. 'It may still have pure-strain humans in it. We only know it's somewhere in that region.' Drops of sweat began appearing on Albert's forehead as he stared at the flag icon. It was a wide perimeter but still… Vault-13 _did _lie within that area. Who could possibly have told this man about the Vault's location? Was it the Water Merchants of the Hub?

Albert was so occupied by his thoughts that he didn't realize Jeremiah staring at him strangely. Suddenly, his purple hood was yanked from his head and, for a moment, Albert was too stunned to react. Even Jeremiah took a while before his eyes widened in recognition. 'You!' he exclaimed, a moment before a bolt of plasma caught him in his midsection. He opened his mouth but no scream came forth.

'Shit,' Albert swore as the melted hole in Brother Jeremiah's stomach began to expand. Grabbing his hand, Albert yanked the dying acolyte towards the EML. Jeremiah was in shock, but his legs still responded automatically to the pull as he was dragged away from the lobby.

Albert hit the switch on the door, hopng no one was inside. The door slid out of the way, revealing an empty waiting lounge. Already bits of molten flesh and fabric were beginning to drip on the floor from Jeremiah's wound. Albert pulled on the next switch to the door of the closest operating room. Without waiting for the door to open all the way, Albert hurled Jeremiah through the widening space.

He abruptly froze as the rest of the operating room came into sight. Below the operating table where he had slid to a halt, the acolyte's dissolving innards were already staining the floor. But on top of the operating table itself was something even more revolting.

Some kind of flesh-colored biomass covered the metal table. It emitted a strange, noxious odor that Albert couldn't quite place. Some of it even looked as though it might be… human flesh. Albert took a tentative step closer to the table. The flesh looked… living, or at least fresh. It was as if someone had chopped up pieces of flesh, melted them together somehow, and then dumped the biological goop onto the table. But instead of losing its color, the flesh still seemed healthy and pink. Which meant either that whatever had happened here was recent, or that this was no ordinary puddle of human remains. Against his better judgment, Albert reached out a hand and touched the mass of flesh. Not only did it look like human flesh, but it also felt like it.

Albert felt his gag reflexes kicking in and quickly retreated out of the room after pulling the half-melted robes off the remains of Jeremiah. At least if someone found him, they might just assume it was just part of whatever was on the operating table that had spilled over onto the floor.

Locating a disposal bin, Albert dumped the robes, realizing, as he did so, that this was the second set of purple robes he had ruined. Although, at this point, perhaps it didn't matter any longer. Even if he had wanted to give the robes to Natalia, Albert wasn't sure how he was going to get out past the Nightkin guards. They had just seen him go in. He was sure they would be suspicious if he left immediately. So for the time being, at least, he was stuck in this dark, decrepit Vault.

Movement coming from outside the door made Albert duck down low. He moved over to the single large window of the EML's waiting lounge that looked out onto the vault's main lobby. First came two blurry shapes – the invisible Nightkin no doubt. They were followed closely by two fully visible Nightkin. After them came the most disheartening sight yet. It _was _the scouts. And they were all and battered and bruised, with their hands bound before them. Two of them had lost their legs, likely from laser blasts by the look of it, and were slung over the shoulders of one of the Nightkin with as much dignity as sacks of food.

Yet these weren't all of the scouts. Katja, two other scouts, and Dogmeat weren't among them. Maybe a few had gotten away! Dogmeat at least _had _to have gotten away. Albert couldn't bear the thought of his canine companion lying dead somewhere in the rubble of the crumbling buildings outside the Cathedral. The thought was even worse than that of any of the other scouts dying.

Before Albert could form any kind of educated guess as to what really had happened with the rest, another figure came up at the rear of the line of hostages. It was Laura, and she was being followed closely by… Talius! What was he doing here?! He was supposed to have been safely back in Adytum! Had the Nightkin gone all the way there to bring the scouts back? And what did that mean for the people of Adytum?

Talius walked with his head hung low, just like all the other scouts, but, strangely enough, his hands weren't bound. Albert guessed he was so weak in his ghoul-like state that the Nightkin didn't even think he posed any threat to them. Two more Nightkin took up the rear.

Once the troop of soldiers and hostages made their way around the far corner of the lobby to the main elevators and were out of sight, Albert exited the EML. He had no idea what he could possibly do for the scouts, but he at least had to figure out what the mutants had planned for them and do… something if he could.

Once all the Nightkin and their hostages had taken the elevators down (it had required all three of the elevators just to fit all of them, thanks in part to the Nightkin's huge bodies), Albert stepped into the elevator lobby they had just vacated, watching the lights at the top of the doors. The elevator carts went all the way down, coming to a stop only at the bottommost level of the vault. In Vault-13, the lowest level was reserved for storage space. But this vault was smaller, with just over half as many levels as Vault-13. In Vault-13, taking the elevator this many floors down would land a person in the middle section of the entire Vault, at the precise level where the CCC was located. If the Master really was down here in the vault, the most logical place for him to reside would be the Central Computer Core, perhaps even in the Overseer's office itself. Again, Albert was struck but the symbolic parallels and inversions that seemed to link this vault with Vault-13. Albert's mind formed a brief mental image of a horribly mutated monstrous creature superimposed onto the head of Jacoren, the Overseer of Vault-13. The image should have been so ludicrous as to be funny, but the image deeply disturbed Albert.

Trying his best to discard the mental games his mind was playing on him, Albert hit the recall button for the elevators and waited.

* * *

><p>Natalia crouched alone in the darkened cavern in the corner furthest away from the monstrosities that still milled about. She still couldn't believe what she had just seen. No sooner had Albert and the acolyte left than heavy foosteps had sounded from behind her. Unable to go forward or back, Natalia had fled to find a darker hiding place in the cavern itself that wasn't already populated by mutant creatures. She had tried to pull the crazed old man in rags with her but he had been too slow and, at the last moment, she had been forced to leave him. That had proven to be his death knell.<p>

When the troop of Nightkin had entered and spotted the rambling old man, one of them had simply picked up him by the head in one giant hand and hurled him towards those things the acolyte had identified as the "floaters" and "centaur". The animals seemed to have gotten their fill from the previous two corpses, but the sudden intrusion of another living creature into their territory had sent them ballistic. They had ripped him to pieces in seconds. Even the floaters had forgone their usual poisoning attack and had just gnawed at him like piranhas using the teeth that lined the inside of that orifice-of-a-mouth of theirs.

And as if that hadn't been enough, Natalia had then seen the scouts, battered and defeated, led in with their hands bound, with Laura and Talius taking the rear. Two of the scouts had had their legs cut off and had been carried across one mutant's back.

Once the small line of mutants and human hostages had passed, Natalia had tried to follow, only to find herself with no way pass the guarded vault door that Albert himself had gone through earlier. The thought that those who had created that invaluable distraction for Albert and herself were now being led, likely, to their deaths was only made worse by the realization that Natalia could do nothing about it.

But, just as Albert had done, Natalia realized that Katja, Dogmeat, and a few of the other scouts were not in that line of hostages. It was possible the Nightkin had just killed them off but _maybe_… just _maybe_ some of them had gotten away. And if so, as long as they had any kind of loyalty towards their fellow scouts, they would surely be trying to find a way to get to them.

Natalia needed to find out for sure. Besides, she wasn't going to make it forward through the vault entrance just by waiting around. So instead, Natalia left the cave behind her and returned to the basement of the Cathedral. She had just started up the staircase when a blurry image crashed directly into her. Natalia scrambled to her feet, sure that it was the missing Nightkin sentry who had returned to guard the secret staircase. Yet, as she looked again, she realized that the blurry image seemed… smaller. And as the figure deactivated the stealth field, the familiar image of Katja came into view.

'Ka—' she started to say when the green-haired woman put an urgent finger to her lips. She gave Natalia a big hug instead. Then, leading Natalia further into the basement, away from the staircase, she told Natalia about what had happened on the surface. Natalia, in turn, gave her a quick breakdown of what had occurred on her end.

'I was too late to stop Heather from revealing all our plans to the Children,' Katja said in anger. The Nightkin knew exactly where all our secret stashes were located. They found where the scouts were all hiding. It didn't take long…'

'I'm sorry, Katja. I truly am,' said Natalia, trying to give her friend another hug.

Katja pushed it off, shaking her head. 'Just make sure this place gets taken down _permanently_ by the end of today.'

Natalia couldn't think of what to say in repsonse. How were they going to do that? Even if they had brought enough plastic explosives – and they had brought quite a bit, courtesy of the scavs in Adytum, now stashed where Albert and Natalia had left their suits of combat armor – it would, at most, take down only part of the Cathedral. What of the vault below? How could they ever destroy that?

'I don't know what to do, Katja,' Natalia blurted, feeling overwhelmed by the despairing task ahead of her. Albert and the other scouts were trapped behind the heavily guarded entrance of the vault and there was no way she could get in, unless… 'Wait, that thing on your wrist. You said that's how you made yourself invisible like the Nightkin!'

'Well… sorta invisible. Not enough to walk right past a guard undetected.' Natalia pursed her lips in thought. 'How about this?' Katja suggested. 'Use the stealth boy, stay invisible and just out of sight. I'll create a distraction at that vault door you talked about, and when the guards are looking my way, you sneak past their legs. So long as they're not looking directly at you, they won't even know you're there.'

'Katja. The last distraction turned out to be a _very bad _idea. I can't let you be captured like the others.'

'Look. We _both _can't sneak past the guards. And besides, one of us has to go back for Dogmeat. I left him on the outskirts. I'd hate for any Nightkin to find him… on the off chance they eat dog.'

Natalia gave a short laugh. 'Sounds like you two became friends,' she observed.

'He was the one who found out that it was the stealth boys that were making the Nightkin invisible,' Katja replied, earning a quizzical stare from Natalia. 'Look, this is the way it's gotta be,' Katja said, growing serious. 'You need to go down there and finish what you and Albert came to do. You need to _stop _the Master. Here. Today. Somehow.'

Natalia sighed heavily. 'Alright,' she said finally. 'But put these on.' She handed Katja Albert's own robes that he, in turn, had gotten from Laura. 'So long as you can make it back to the nave of the Cathedral without being seen, you should be fine. And one more thing: when you're making that distraction, make sure you do it out of the line of sight of the guards so they don't even see you. And then you run like hell.'

'Relax, Natalia,' Katja said in a facetiously patronizing manner. 'I got this. Remember. I evaded deathclaws for months while scavving the Boneyard _on my own_.'

Natalia shook her head and smiled. 'When this is all over, you and I need to do some scavving of our own. For cosmetics.'

Katja's face brightened considerably. 'You really mean that?'

'Just stay alive,' Natalia warned.

'That goes to you too.'

They hugged again, then made their way back into the cavern. Allowing some time for Katja to get used to the sight of the creatures Natalia had described to her earlier, the two women then followed the tunnel ahead till they were near the outer vault door but still out of sight. Natalia moved to get into position.

'And Natalia,' Katja called quietly to her friend. Natalia turned. 'If you could, try and save those scouts' sorry asses. Especially Laura. She owes me a bunch of caps.' Katja said it in a joking tone but Natalia knew her desire to see her friends back safely was deeply genuine. Natalia nodded and headed off to wait for Katja's distraction.

* * *

><p>The two Nightkin super mutants guarding the outer vault door were getting restless. There had been so much traffic into and out of the main entrance that day and yet there they were, stuck performing guard duty for another three hours.<p>

Something clattered around the bend in the tunnel up ahead. It sounded like a rock. Then another clattering. Then another.

'Shit, I hope that tunnel isn't collapsing,' said the first mutant. 'You'd better go check it out.'

'Why me?'

'Because you're the dumber one.'

'Uh… okay,' said the second one before leaving his post.

None of them realized the almost-invisible figure crouching as she snuck past their lumbering legs and into the vault behind them.

* * *

><p>The elevator ride down to the CCC was probably the most unpleasant one Albert had ever taken. Just like that operating table on the entrance-level floor, this elevator had been lined with bits of living flesh – flesh that, for all intents and purposes seemed like it should have belonged on a human being instead of the wallpaper. Albert couldn't even begin to fathom what had caused it to grow or cling there in the first place. And everytime the dim lights had flickered off for a moment, the biomass had seemed to move just a little, as if it were stretching, trying to spread over even more of the elevator walls.<p>

When the elevator finally reached the bowels of the old vault and the doors groaned slowly open, Albert thought he had walked into some kind of twisted, alternate dimension. More human flesh greeted his eyes, this time not only on the walls but also the floor and the ceiling, blocking out some of the already dim lights and making the place look even more forbidding than the main lobby on the upper floor. And to top it all off, some of the flesh here looked raw and red and… pulsing. This time, Albert was sure it wasn't just his imagination. The movements were small, almost imperceptible, but because there was just so much of it going on all over the corridor, it was impossible to miss. It seemed, at times, as if the very corridor was warping and flexing just a little at a time, disorienting Albert's vision and making him feel off-balance and dizzy.

He tried to avoid stepping on the flesh as he headed down the corridor, but with every step, it became increasingly difficult. Eventually, Albert reached the point where he was sure that there was more flesh than metal in the corridor. At the same time, with the raw human tissue covering even more of the ceiling lights than before, the passageway grew even darker as he moved further along. Sometimes, some of the flesh that covered the lights was thin enough to allow some illumination to filter through it. But that only made things worse, as it ended up casting the corridor in a sickly reddish glow.

Finally, Albert made it to the end of the corridor… and found himself lost. With the halls looking less and less like those of a vault and more and more like those of a nightmarish hellscape, Albert couldn't tell which door led where, or even whether some of the doors had been completely covered in biomass. He assumed the Nightkin had taken their prisoners to the Master, and, presumably, that would be where the overseer's office was located. But where _was _that?

Albert thought it over for a few minutes, casting his eyes back-and-forth at the various branching passageways and half-flesh-covered doors.

Then it hit him.

Some passages and doorways were less infested with the creeping human flesh than others. If irony were the order of the day, then the place he was trying to get to would be the place that was the most gruesome. Of course, it wasn't _all_ irony. This place was covered in slimy dripping flesh for a reason, and that reason was probably FEV. Albert couldn't begin to figure out why the FEV would cause _this _kind of an infestation, but then, he was no scientist. Maybe someone had spilled the stuff and it had reacted with something on the floor and walls and ceiling… or not… There just was no good answer, Albert realized, at least none he could think of. Albert just knew that if he found the source of this plague of flesh that had almost completely overrun the bottommost level of this vault, he would likely also find the Master and the prisoners. Albert knew his logic might be a bit off, but with no other alternative, he picked the most flesh-covered passageway and followed it.

He knew his hunch had paid off a few minutes later when he entered a large room with dozens of computers – computers covered in flesh – with several Nightkin guards in black armor positioned at regular intervals and over a dozen people in purple robes working diligently at the computers. Again, Albert found his mind torn between two images – one of the Vault-13's own Computer Core and the other of this surreal, dreadful sight; one with Vault-13 leaders and technicians hard at work at the computers and the other with Children of the Cathedral technicians doing the very same thing. And then again, much to his disgust, his mind fused the two images within his mind and he was suddenly seeing Vault-13's leaders and technicians as members of the Children, working for the Master, the Overseer.

The image was so vivid and disturbing that Albert had to stop walking for a moment and clutch his head from the throbbing that had grown in the back of his head and in his temples. He took a few deep breaths until the moment passed.

This was crazy! This bizarre scene of flesh and metal integrated together was actually starting to make him see things… _and _give him a headache at the same time.

As he made his way through the large room, he began to detect the gruff voice of one of the Nightkans coming from the passageway at the end of this computer room. Perhaps this was that "Uthern" Nightkin the guards the vault entrance had talked about.

'You have two choices!' the Nightkin bellowed from just out of sight. Pulling his hood lower over his eyes, Albert walked purposefully through the rest of the room to the passageway leading out of it at the other end. He had to see for himself what was going on. 'One, you can all stand here and die one by one for your crimes against the Unity. Or two, the two among you who come from the vault numbered thirteen can identify yourself, step forward, and enter the Corridor.'

_Shit! _Albert swore as he rounded the corner and saw the congregation of Nighktin and prisoners standing by a particularly unwelcoming-looking door framed by what looked like human entrails. These Nightkin somehow knew not only that Albert and Natalia were here but also, and what was worse, that they came from Vault-13! How could they have possibly known that?! And, to top it all off, this one Nightkin seemed to think that Albert and Natalia were concealing their identities by hiding amongst the scouts!

'I told you!' It was Laura. She sounded defiant. Albert was impressed. The Followers probably all knew there was no way out for them, yet here she was giving lip to the giant in front of her even though she had no cards left to play. 'We're _all _from the Followers. There isn't any one here from a vault!'

'Silence!' the Nightkin bellowed, slapping her across the face. With his strength, it was enough to knock her off her feet. 'You!' he turned to Talius. 'For the last time, which one is it?'

Albert noticed some of the other purple-robed technicians were getting drawn by the commotion and had left their computer stations to join the crowd. Albert filtered his way into their presence.

'She was telling the truth!' Talius protested. 'They're not here! They're probably somewhere in the Cathedral, disguised as one of the Children! Please, just let these ones go! You promised!'

'The Master said he would spare your pathetic town if you delivered the vault dwellers. I. Don't. See. The vault dwellers.' The Nightkin pointed at Peter, the leader of the scouts. 'Is it this one?'

Peter's eyes went wide with fear. 'No, I'm not—'

'No!' Talius shouted.

'Well, since we seem to be going nowhere,' said the Nightkin irritably, 'I guess I'm just going to have to start somewhere.' He turned to Peter. 'You. Step through the door.'

The Nightkin reached for the control panel on the door and activated it. As the door began to slide open, a sense of dread seemed to seep out of it and into the room. Inside, it was even darker than the dimly light passageway in which they had all gathered. As Albert continued to watch, the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. He _felt _something from the corridor beyond. The door finally slid all the way up into the recess of the doorframe, but all Albert could see was a narrow passageway that turned sharply to the left after a few paces. Yet even though he couldn't see it, Albert knew there was something around that corner. Something ugly. Something terrible.

'What's… in there,' Peter said uncertainly. 'And what are those… voices?'

Albert strained to hear what was coming out of the corridor but could detect nothing.

'That, human, is the Corridor,' the Nightkin said simply. 'And _those_ voices are the voices of those who reside in the walls. Do you hear them? Are they calling your name?'

Albert only had a view of Peter's side profile, but he could clearly see the blood draining from the poor man's face.

'Stop…' he moaned in terror. 'Stop! Stop! _Stop_! STOP IT!' He pressed his hands to his ears as hard as he could. 'How do they know who I am?!'

Albert was struck with a mixture of fascination and terror. Whatever it was that lay ahead in that Corridor had somehow gotten into Peter's mind. Was it some kind of aerosolized chemical that was giving him involuntary visions, allowing the Nightkin to use some kind suggestive hypnosis? But if so, why didn't any of the others seem to hear what he was hearing? They were fearful, that was obvious, but they also seemed puzzled by his reaction.

'The Corridor is alive with those who have gone before,' said the Nightkin, clearly amused by Peter's breakdown. To Albert, those words struck a chord; they were the same ones that crazed man back in the cavern had used, and now Albert was beginning to think he finally knew what the man had been talking about. 'How many of your past scouts have you lost?' the Nightkin continued. 'Ask yourself that. Those we captured are all in there waiting for you…'

'You're lying! It's all lies!' Peter shook his head violently as if he could counteract the Nightkin's statement through sheer force of will. He knew he wasn't doing his teammates any favors by losing his cool, but he was beyond caring by that point.

'Go in and find out,' the Nightkin challenged, his oversized lips curling in a confident sneer. 'There are only three kinds of people who make it through the Corridor.' The Nightkin was clearly enjoying his exercise of superior knowledge and power over his prisoners. 'The first kind,' he said, relishing the effect his little performance was having on his viewers, 'are those whom the Master allows entry. The second are the nullified, those too braindead to function normally.' The Nightkin let his words hang for a few tense seconds. None of the scouts fit any of those two categories and they knew it. 'The last,' the Nightkin continued, 'are those who are strong-willed and of pure-strain. You,' he looked directly at Peter, 'don't seem to fit the former criterion. But perhaps if you are pure _enough_… perhaps you will make it through.'

'Pure? What do you mean pure?' Peter sounded almost hysterical.

'Contamination from radiation, stupid human. If you lived most of your life sheltered from life in the wasteland, your exposure to radiation would be negligible. So the question is: are you one of our elusive vault dwellers?'

'I'm not! I've told you already!' Peter almost screamed.

'Well, it has to be _one _of you here. And if none of you will volunteer, then… I'm afraid you're the first one in.'

'I won't! I'm not going to play your stupid games!'

'Well, that brings us back to option one, then,' the Nightkin said. He pulled out his laser pistol and nonchalantly blasted a hole into the heads of one of the physically disabled scouts who had lost his legs in the earlier fight. A few scouts screamed at the cold abruptness with which their fellow scout had just been executed.

'Stop!' Peter yelled.

The Nightkin looked expectantly at the horrified expression on Peter's face. 'Should I kill another?'

'No! Don't! I'll…' He swallowed hard but made no further commitment. The Nightkin shot the next legless scout in his head.

'_Stop it_!' Peter screamed.

'Why so worried?' the Nightkin taunted. 'Without their legs, they were only liabilities to you. I did you a favor. The next one, though… The next one is…' He looked around the faces until his eyes settled on Laura. He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. He placed the barrel of his pistol against her head. Laura was shaking and sweating visibly but she shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, unwilling to give the Nightkin the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

'STOP!' Peter yelled again. '_I'll go_!' The Nightkin stopped and looked at him. 'I'll… go,' Peter repeated, so softly that it was barely audible. The Nightkin gestured at the open doorway as if it were the most welcoming place in the world.

Very reluctantly, Peter stepped up to the threshold. He wavered for a moment, resting his hand against the doorframe to steady himself. But his palm landed on one of the hanging intestines and he recoiled in disgust. Slime dripped from his fingers. He wiped his hand on his trousers and stepped into the passage beyond.

'Be quick about it!' the Nightkin boomed. 'We don't have all day!'

Peter reached the corner of the passage, made the turn, then he was out of sight. They heard him give a loud gasp of revulsion mixed with terror. Seconds passed. Then there came a wail that was so blood curdling that everyone's hair stood on end, especially because it didn't sound like it had come from Peter. It started soft and haunting, then it was joined by other cries and screams that echoed down the hall beyond, around the corner, and hit them right in their faces.

_Screams of the dying_, Albert thought to himself. _Screams of the damned_. What else _could_ it be?

Soon the screams had become a terrible chorus that grew in volume and became twisted and distorted until they sounded less like human screams and more like the guttural roar of some demonic creature. In that cacophony, Albert thought he could hear Peter's own screams, barely audible above the din at first, then melding with the other cries, then joining them in their damning symphony, and then finally…

Silence.

'P… Peter?' Laura called out. No reply.

'He lasted longer than I expected,' the Nightkin thought aloud. 'Maybe he wasn't quite as weak-willed as I thought. Now…' He turned his sadistic eyes to Laura. 'You're turn next. Unless someone _else _would like to step forward.' He turned his glance towards the three remaining scouts. 'Which one of you is a vault dweller?'

Albert's mind was reeling. This Nightkin commander was about to send the scouts in one-by-one and, if he what he had said was true, they would all die because of whatever radiation they had picked up over the course of their lifetimes from having lived in the wasteland. And this was all going to happen because the Nightkin had somehow decided that Albert and Natalia were hiding amongst them. He was prepared to let them all die on the off-chance that at least one of them was a vault dweller.

And Albert couldn't allow that to happen. Not when this was all happening because the Nightkin commander was looking for _him_.

With no plan in mind, Albert stepped forward out of the crowd, pulling his hood back to reveal his face. There was a very real possibility that none of this would make a difference. But he could think of no other alternative, at least nothing that would work in time to save the scouts. '_I_ am the vault dweller,' he declared. Everyone's eyes went wide. 'Let these people go. They are of no consequence to the Master. He wants only me.'

'Albert, no,' Laura said, reaching out a hand to him. It was struck down sharply by one of the other Nightkin guards. She yelped in pain and nursed her hand, cowed at least for the moment.

'So _you're _the one who's been meddling in the affairs of the Unity,' said the Nightkin. 'A little different from the description I was given…' The Nightkin pulled out a handheld radio from his belt, tuned it to a specific frequency, and hit the transmit button. But before he could say anything, a screeching squeal followed by heavy static erupted from the radioset's speaker. Then, as soon as it had started, it ceased, leaving only silence.

'The vault dweller,' came a voice – a very human sounding voice belonging to, Albert guessed, a man in his forties or fifties. 'You have him.' It sounded more like a statement than a question.

'That is what he claims, Master,' said the Nightkin, all his earlier pomp and confidence replaced by a sudden meekness and obsequiousness. 'His appearance does not completely fit the description given by the Children, however.'

'Then we shall test him.' The second voice was different. It sounded like the voice of a young woman speaking through some kind of PA system, her voice artificially magnified and slightly distorted.

'Send him through the corridor at once!' commanded a third voice. This one seemed to belong to a very angry, rapidly-speaking, middle-aged man.

'But, Master, what if he _is _one of them but is not strong enough?'

'It makes no difference,' said the very first, even-tempered voice. 'Either we will speak when he passes the test or I will discern what he knows when he joins those in the walls.'

'Walls…' the woman's voice echoed.

Albert couldn't help but shiver at the seeming casualness with which the voices over the radio talked about his potential death. And what _were_ these three voices? Was the Master schizophrenic like that other acolyte, Dane, had been? Or was the Master not one person but three? Or was it something else entirely? Either way, Albert didn't like it.

'It will be done, Master,' said the Nightkin. He reattached the radio to his belt. 'You heard him,' he said to Albert. 'For your sake, I hope you are who you claim to be, human.'

Albert moved toward the door but the Nightkin stopped him. 'Leave your weapon,' he ordered.

Albert paused. If his situation had been dire when he had first revealed himself, things had just gotten a lot worse. Now he was _sure _there was no way out. Without his gun, he would have no chance to defend himself against whatever it was that lay in the Corridor ahead that had presumably killed Peter. Albert still had his utility belt with his Vault-Tec knife sheathed at the back, but what was a knife going to do against monsters that could get into one's mind? And even _if _he made it to the end of the Corridor and did not fall like Peter presumably had, what was he going to be able to do against the Master of the mutant armies?

_I'm sorry Natalia_, Albert said silently. _And everyone else_, he added, remembering all the people in Vault-13 he was about to let down. He unbuckled the holster in which he kept his plasma pistol and let it drop noisily to the floor.

As he walked to the doorway, Talius moved close.

'I'm sorry!' he said, his voice sounding exceedingly contrite.

'What for?' Albert asked.

'I lied. The Master knows about Vault-13.'

'It certainly seems that way,' Albert agreed.

'No, you don't understand!' Talius said gripping Albert's shoulder with a strength Albert didn't think the old "ghoul" had in him. '_I _told him.' Albert's eyes went wide.

The Nightkin commander, who could easily have interrupted their conversation, was clearly amused by the effect this was having on Albert and was more than happy to allow it to continue. Albert didn't care. He needed to know exactly what Talius had done.

'When they first got me years ago,' Talius continued, 'they knew I came from a vault, but no one thought it was important enough to pass on to the Master. It was only recently that Heather, the other spy, confronted me and told me to trade knowledge of what I knew about Vault-13 in exchange for the lives of the people of Adytum. The Master had found out about my past history and wanted to know where I had come from. I did it to _save_ them. I struck a deal with the devil.'

'What about the people of Vault-13?!' Albert blurted in disbelief. 'What about saving _them_?!'

'I know…' Talius said forlornly. 'I just… had to do something to protect the people who had sheltered me after my… transformation.'

'Well, you have done "something",' Albert said coldly, offering the guilt-stricken old man no respite.

'But I could only tell them _about _Vault-13. My old PIPBoy got destroyed ages ago and I could never remember how to get back. They needed someone who had just come out of a vault. They needed… they _need_… you, Albert.'

'So you told them we were heading their way.'

Talius nodded his head sadly. 'Heather and I weren't the only ones spying for the Children. There was another who left for the Cathedral shortly after your first appearance at the Library.' Talius sighed. 'And Albert… that's not the only thing. Before they dipped me that first time, years ago, they found out that I was radiation-free. They didn't know what that meant back then, and they were never able to do any tests since the Followers rescued me. But now the Master's put two-and-two together. He knows I'm pure-strain and he knows I'm from Vault-13.'

And just like that, everything clicked – the Master's plan revealed in all its terrible glory. And Albert realized, with a sickening lurch in his stomach, that Vault-13 was at the center of it all. The Master wasn't just interested in himself, Natalia, and the other vault dwellers because they had been meddling in his affairs by killing his mutants at the watershed in Necropolis, fraternizing with the Followers of the Apocalypse, and now seeking to bring down the Children of the Cathedral and get rid of the FEV for good. Zax, the computer Albert and Alex had found in the Glow, had said that FEV didn't work well – and was even fatal – for people whose genetic material had suffered too much damage from radiation. The Master knew this somehow, if not from the science behind it, then likely from the hundreds of successes and failures who had already been dipped in the FEV. A vault full of radiation-free humans would give him a huge boost to his mutant army with what would probably be an almost hundred-percent success rate. He didn't simply want Albert and the rest because they had been a pain in his side. He wanted them so that he could learn the precise location of Vault-13! And what better irony than to dip _them _in the FEV as a taste of things to come. Maybe even have _them _lead the assault on Vault-13 once they had joined his ranks of super mutants.

'So… what, the Master dipped all the people in this vault and now is looking for mine?' Albert made it a point not to say "ours". Talius, as far as he was concerned, had lost the right to call himself a vault dweller.

Talius shook his head. 'If he had, he would have gotten his army long ago. The people in this vault had moved out and headed north long ago, ot at least that's what I was told. The place was abandoned when he got to it except for a few scavengers who had taken refuge here from the wasteland. He _needs _Vault-13 for his plans to work.'

'You may have just doomed every last one of us,' Albert said gravely. 'You think he's going to spare Adytum when he controls the entire wasteland?'

'I had to do _something_,' Talius repeated. 'Isn't that what you did just now by stepping forward? Neither one of us was sure our decision was going to work but we did it anyway.'

'Alright, that's enough,' said the Nightkin commander. 'Move.'

'Well I hope it works out well for you,' Albert said sarcastically to Talius. He pulled away from Talius' grip and walked through the doorway, a bitter anger welling up deep within him. So _this _was how everything had gone to hell. Albert wanted nothing more than to stab Talius to death with the knife he still had concealed at the back of his utility belt, but that would be too simple. If there was anyone who needed to learn the consequences of his actions, it was Talius. Let him see the damage he had caused. That was a far more deserving punishment. As for Albert himself, his own fate lay before him.

Just as he reached the bend in the corridor, Albert turned around, looking one last time at the people standing beyond the doorway. Talius was right about one thing. Albert wasn't even remotely convinced that he had saved their lives by revealing himself. But, at the very least, he had bought them some time. Maybe Natalia would arrive in the nick of time and save the day. Or maybe some other miracle would happen. At least on his own part, he had done all he could.

Looking at the remaining scouts, Albert felt disheartened. All of them had their heads cast down, knowing what was about to happen next. But then Laura looked up at him. She actually had tears welling in her eyes. They had barely spoken back in the Cathedral – she was almost like a stranger to him – and yet… here she was, crying tears for a stranger. That made things seem just a little less terrible.

And as he met her gaze, a new thought began to creep into his head. He wished that he could have seen Pat's face one more time. It was a strange thought to have. Why would his last thoughts be of someone he had taken as his confidant for only one night? The two of them had never been romantically involved, never triedto be, and she hadn't even been out here in the wasteland with him, sharing his experiences like his other companions had.

But that was exactly it, he realized. Compared to Alex, Natalia, Tycho, and, hell, even Dogmeat, Pat was a stranger to the wasteland. It had been far easier opening up to her back in Vault-13 than anyone else of his group who had actually been out there with him experiencing at least some of what he had experienced. He had trusted her opinion more _because _she had never seen or been touched by the taint of post-nuclear life. And so perhaps it wasn't so surprising after all that now, in his darkest hour, he was thinking of her again – a symbol of purity and innocence, but also wisdom and comfort. She was the representative of all the people he had been trying to save fromthe evils of the wasteland. He wished he could send some kind of message to tell her he wouldn't be coming back, and, most of all, to tell her to get out of Vault-13 before it was too late. Maybe she wouldn't even care, but that didn't change how he felt at that moment.

Albert laughed inwardly at his own sentimentality. This was all just an emotional and psychological response to an extremely stressful condition. Here he was, Albert the planner, Albert the rational thinker, Albert the leader, reduced to a pining nostalgic dreamer. _Enough of that_, he berated himself. If he allowed himself to despair now, then there _definitely _was no chance of surviving. It was time to focus on what lay ahead – give it the best he had to give.

He sighed heavily, then turned the corner, shutting out the sight of the Nightkin commander, his guards, the Children of the Cathedral technicians, the scouts, Laura, and… strangely enough, an image of Pat's countenance, lost within the sea of all the other faces.

* * *

><p>EXPLANATORY PARAGRAPH: As promised:<p>

'_Why the heck is this chapter not called "The Master"?!'_ you might ask. Well, I am actually part of the way through the next chapter which originally was supposed to be joined with this one. But as I was writing it, I just realized that there was a heck of a lot of doom-and-gloom combined into one chapter. This chapter is about 11,000 words. If I had combined it with what I plan to include in the next chapter, it would have likely been at least 15,000. More importantly, the events that take place after this chapter were even heavier and darker - darker to the point that even _I _felt drained just writing it. Those of you who have played the original game might know what's coming. So, even though the separation of chapters is somewhat superficial, I just didn't want so much of that stuff concentrated in one section. So, expect a shorter next chapter.


	31. Chapter 30: The Master

There, this chapter didn't seem quite so draining now that I've been able to look at it as separate from the previous chapter. Also, those of you who have been following this story at least for the past few months will have noticed that I've been surprisingly prolific, especially the last 3 months. Part of that was because I'm about to get very busy, so I wanted to make sure I put out as much as possible before then. So the next chapter onward may take longer to come out than previous chapters, hopefully no longer than a month between each. If we're all lucky and things don't turn out as bad, it may be shorter than that. I hope you'll bear with me on that. In any case, the end of this chapter seems like a nice place to mark the end of one major part of the story. One final stretch to go and then we're done!

Additional note: I employed a particular method to convey the Master speaking in 4 different voices here. Couldn't think of any other way that wouldn't be even more disruptive. Hopefully it doesn't give you a headache (although, if it does... I wonder if that would actually fit the atmosphere and feel of the chapter).

**Chapter Thirty: The Master**

Natalia was lost. More than once, she had made a turn and found herself (she believed) back where she had started. It was as if all this nightmarish flesh lining the corridors was somehow alive and opening and closing passages in front and behind her. And even if all that hadn't been going on, she still wasn't even sure if she was even on the right floor. She had made the same guesses Albert had and had wound up on the lowest floor after first testing her theory by taking a stop at _this _vault's middle level. She had stepped out of the doors on that floor only to find herself in the living quarters of over a dozen super mutants going about their own leisure. Even cloaked in a stealth field, her blurry silhouette had nearly been spotted when the doors had opened.

So Natalia was pretty sure she was now on the right floor. But if that were right, where the hell _was _everyone? She was beginning to get the feeling that the flesh covering the walls was not only moving but was also aware of her presence somehow, and had decided to keep her at bay.

As disturbing as that thought was, it meant one other thing that could be useful to her: even if the flesh could shift and change, the underlying architecture of the old decaying vault couldn't possibly do likewise. And so Natalia began constructing a map of the place in her mind as she proceeded onwards, keeping track not only of every turn she made but also the distance she travelled inbetween turns. There was no way she was going to allow a mindless carpet of human flesh to outsmart her.

* * *

><p>Albert felt like he had stepped through a portal into another dimension, and an evil one at that, if that were possible. The sight of the seemingly endless mass of bulging, tumorous human tissue ahead sent the bile rising up into his throat. It was like walking through a giant human intestine.<p>

Of course, the extent to which all that biomass covered the metal surfaces of the floor, walls, and ceiling had been growing ever since he had first stepped out of the elevator; he had begun to accept that bizarre fact, even if he hadn't quite gotten used to it. But this… this was different. This was a living corridor _completely_ covered by human parts. There was so much flesh covering the walls, floor, and ceiling that Albert couldn't see even a glimpse of the original white vault walls. The worst part of it all was that the flesh was moving – churning – and no longer in barely perceptible increments. This Corridor was visibly, if slowly, twisting and rolling, pulsating and throbbing. Of Peter there was no sign. It was very possible that the flesh had simply smothered him wherever he had last fallen, concealing him completely.

Before making any further move, Albert activated his PIPBoy. He studied the coordinates of a particular point on the map, memorized the numbers, then deleted the recorded location of Vault-13 as well as any other record talking about it. So far, no one had been observant enough to suspect his PIPBoy might hold records of Vault-13, but he realized that could change at any moment and didn't want to take that chance. He felt a sense of loss as the electronic blip demarcating Vault-13 on the PIPBoy's map vanished permanently, but Albert knew he was doing the right thing. If the Master wanted to find Vault-13, he would get no help from Albert. Albert changed the display back to its original time setting and then focused on the task at hand.

Taking his first step forward, Albert cringed as his boots landed on the disturbingly soft and springy tissue. There was no avoiding it now. Up ahead, perhaps almost a hundred feet down, the Corridor made yet another bend. Albert hoped that was the end and that all he needed to do was make it that far in order to reach the Master. As little as he wanted to actually see the Master face-to-face, he was going to have to do it eventually anyway if he made it through this Corridor. It didn't _seem _like it should be too difficult. _Might as well just get it over with._

But he had only taken a few more steps when the voices started. They were coming from the wall and, at first, he couldn't figure out how or why. But as he drew near to right wall, the flesh parted suddenly, revealing what looked like a half-decomposed human face. Then more and more openings emerged in the walls, revealing dozens of other faces. This truly _was _the Corridor of the damned, Albert thought to himself. As if to confirm his thoughts, the faces opened their mouths wide, wider than should have been humanly possible, but instead of wailing or screaming, the faces began calling to him… by name.

This couldn't be possible. It _had _to be all in his mind. Peter had heard the voices calling _his _name even beforehe had stepped into the Corridor. But on the other hand… _everyone _had heard the wailing that came after. So unless there was some form of mass hypnosis going on, some of it had to be real. Albert just wasn't sure how to differentiate between the real and the imagined. One thing was certain, though. Whether physically real or only mentally so, there was no doubt that something in the Corridor itself was imposing its hostile will upon him, evidenced by the headache that had gradually begun to grow in his head.

Albert felt a trickle of something wet flowing down over his upper lip. It tasted coppery. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and gave a start as it came away red with blood. Darkness washed over his eyes for a moment and Albert briefly thought he was going to faint. But the episode passed, the blood stopped, and he pressed on.

A few more steps in, progress started becoming increasingly difficult. At first he thought it was just that his feet were sinking deep into the flesh on the floor. But when he looked down, her actually saw slivers of flesh in the shape of tiny tentacles reaching up and grabbing hold of his boots. Everytime he lifted his foot, the little hands would resist and stretch, then, losing their grip, melt away into the rest of the floor.

The voices still called to him, still chanted his name. A slow familiar refrain of wailing began, accompanying the voices and providing a constant haunting melody that added to his growing headache. His nosebleed began again and, this time, didn't stop. It was a steady drip that Albert tried to ignore. He was convinced that if he could just make it all the way to the end, whatever was causing the bleeding (and the voices) would cease.

Another voice called his name. But this was nearer, sounded more… tangible. Albert turned and nearly shouted in surprise and shock at the sight of Peter. Peter's eyes were dim white orbs and he was covered in slime and bits of loose flesh. He reached out a wet hand towards Albert. Albert swatted the man's arm away.

'Peter!' Albert called. 'It's me! Albert!' But Peter gave no indication that he recognized the vault dweller. And as Albert looked lower, he realized there was a gaping hole in the middle of Peter's thorax – a cavity out of which his entrails began winding their way down and around his leg like a long worm or snake, melding with the rest of the biomass on the floor.

Albert shoved the former scout leader away with enough force to knock him off his feet. The corpse hit the ground and was immediately smothered in raw red flesh, erasing him from sight. Albert knew he had to keep going, but the there was something morbidly fascinating about the scene that gripped his attention. When the flesh cleared, to his great surprise, another body was there in Peter's place, a much larger body with the same cavity in the center of its torso – a body belonging to…

'Stone…' Albert moaned weakly in horror.

'Allllbert,' the corpse of Albert's forgotten friend called. The temptation to scream in denial like Peter had done was intense now. But somehow Albert knew that to do so might be the permanent end to whatever was left of his sanity. He couldn't lose it. Not now. He _had _to make it to the end. He forced his eyes away from the very real-looking image of Stone towards the end of the corridor and realized that he was already halfway there!

But the sound of shuffling behind him forced him to turn back again. Another figure emerged, this time from the wall. It was a blackened, charred body. And although it was unrecognizable, Albert knew all too well who it was.

'No… Not you,' he groaned. 'You're not real. I _know_ you're not real.'

The burnt corpse belonging to the former caravan guard took two stumbling steps forward and its blackened lids opened to reveal eyes that were wide and accusatory.

'You… let me… die…' Ian said, raising his hand and pointing directly at Albert. 'You abandoned me…' Albert felt a sharp stab of pain in his head even as he forced himself to turn away from the sight of his two dead friends. But instead of an empty passageway leading to the end of the Corridor, Albert found himself facing the decomposing bodies of Garl, Gizmo, Decker, Lyle, and every other person he had killed. Their eye sockets were empty, their faces expressionless. They were a sea of zombies blocking the way to freedom. And as they opened their mouths, worms fell from their rotting jaws, pooling in a collective wriggling mass at their feet.

'Get away!' Albert shouted, lowering his head and barreling through them, using his arms to make room for his own passage. Like all the others, they called him by name, but this time he didn't stop, not even to look at them. This apparition, at least, he knew was purely in his mind. And that small realization made it somehow just a little easier to push on.

As he managed to get clear of the crowd of people, he accidentally stepped on a particularly large tumorous growth on the floor that grabbed hold of his ankle with unrelenting force, causing him to stumble and fall on his hands and knees. Albert almost yelled in disgust as the flesh began crawling up his legs and arms as if trying to bond with his own skin – to make him one of the many corpses already lining the Corridor walls. More decomposing faces appeared, this time in the floor right in front of his face. Their jaws widened and they turned their decaying teeth towards his hands and knees.

Thinking it was just another hallucination, Albert ignored them and focused on freeing his arms and legs… until one of them actually bit into his leg, piercing through the fabric of his purple robes and drawing blood.

Crying out in pain, Albert pulled harder against the flesh that held him captive and, after several tries, managed to struggle loose. He looked up, hoping to get a gauge of just how much more of this hell he had to slog through, when something caught his attention from up above – a flash of movement from the ceiling.

Albert glanced up, just in time to see a sliver of bone emerging from an orifice in the ceiling. It angled itself towards him and then burst free of its fleshy moorings, flying towards him with impeccable accuracy. Albert didn't even have time to move aside. The bone neatly sliced through the center of his left eye.

Albert screamed then. Loud and hard. But it was not just a scream of pain. With that piece of bone lodged in his eye socket came the thoughts of the all dead and tortured people trapped within the Corridor. He felt their pain as if whatever injuries had been inflicted on them had suddenly become his own. He sensed their desire to live – a desire so strong that they would rise up from where they had fallen to grab hold of him, to grab hold of a living human being as if doing so would grant them just a piece of what it was like to be restored to life.

Now Albert could no longer tell the different between the pain in his head and the pain in his eye. The two had melded together, much like the flesh had joined with the metal corridor, much like it had tried and almost succeded in fusing with him. Albert reached for the piece of bone and yanked it out. He was sure doing so would cause irreparable damage to his vision, but that seemed to be the smallest of his concerns just then. He turned and threw the piece of bone down the way he had come. It landed at the feet of the crowd of ghosts from his memory. Ian stood at the front. He bent down and picked up the piece of bone, perhaps as a weapon; Albert didn't want to know. Instead he turned and, trying his best to shut out the pain in his eye and his head, he forced himself onwards. Behind him the swarm of the dead shambled towards him, getting ever closer. Somehow, Albert knew he couldn't let them get him. If they did, they would pull him down into the floor and then he would become one of them.

As if in response to his determination, the flesh at his feet seemed to grow even thicker and more viscous, slowing him down even more. He stumbled again, and a breeze blew over him. But it was not a cool or comforting breeze to offer him respite. Instead it felt… dirty and damning somehow, as if the sins of a thousand murderers, rapists, robbers, and torturers had just washed over his soul. All the remorse they at one time felt for their actions now flooded through him and, as if in response, his own collection of accumulated guilt at the wrongdoings he himself had committed rose to answer them. Albert couldn't tell what exactly was going on right then, but he felt as if his very psyche was being ripped apart as these damning forces fought with one another in his mind like madmen. The pounding in his head exploded to new heights of pain.

His vision had gone spotty and was fading in and out of blackness. A part of him wanted nothing more than to give in, knowing that once he allowed the pain to thoroughly permeate his system, it would all be over. He would find peace, blissful freedom from every pain, every thought, every memory. He could be "nullified" if only he would just let it happen. There were so many voices now – shrieking, wailing, screaming, shouting – coming from all over, both inside and outside of his head. The pulsing agony in his head had grown so intense that he couldn't think anymore. Within the blinding haze of pain, there was only one thing he concentrated on now, and that was propelling his feet forward, one slow labored step at a time. He couldn't even remember why he was doing it, he just knew he had to.

The tiny slimy tentacles tugging at his legs were relentless and Albert was just about to collapse again, for the final time, when his next step hit a hard flat surface. At first, he didn't even know what had happened, so clouded had his mind become. But then suddenly, as if it had never existed, the pain vanished in an instant. His mind cleared. The voices, real or imagined, ceased. The blood from his nose and eye was gone. He even hadboth his eyes in full working condition. Albert pulled his other leg free of the tentacles gripping it behind him and fell to the hard, comfortingly solid ground, weeping openly in relief.

How long he knelt there, oblivious to his surroundings, he couldn't tell, so utterly relieved was he at the sudden release from the nightmare that had nearly killed him. But gradually, as all his senses slowly came back to him, he realized something didn't feel right. He may have left the Corridor behind him, but there was one more presence ahead. Albert looked up quickly.

His jaw dropped involuntarily, his eyes widened, and his face paled. The floor here was mostly clear of the flesh that had so permeated the Corridor behind him. But there was still plenty dripping from the walls and ceilings. The worst part of this new sight was the enormous organic web of what looked like melted human skin and fat that linked the flesh on the walls and ceiling to the middle of the room as if this was the source of the entire infestation. And there, at the very center of it all lay the source: the overseer's hydraulic platform, raised to its full height like some kind of demonic throne… except that the platform was almost unrecognizable from the one back in Vault-13. _This _platform was a half-organic, half-mechanical cybernetic tree comprised of fleshy buttresses made of human muscle that supported the base, rust-colored blood swimming around its base, long intestine-like things hanging from the raised platform like vines, and at the top – at the very top of the overseer's platform – sat none other than the Beast of the Cathedral, the Master of the mutant armies himself. And Albert quailed.

Albert couldn't tell _what _the Master was. A small part of him was certainly human. The Master had two human-looking eyes – though one seemed welded shut – a human nose, and at least half of a human mouth. But that was it. Except for his head, everything else about the Master was amorphous. He looked like a mixture of blood and liquid flesh that had been splashed onto the overseer's platform and then congealed into a semi-solid mass. The top of his human-like head had metal tubes and wires sticking out of what looked like electronic ports protruding from his bald scalp. His head itself sat atop of a single computer monitor connected to the overseer's platform's control panel. But his head wasn't _just _resting atop the monitor. Semi-solid, oozing rivers of flesh framed the monitor, some of which dripped down from his chin to partially cover the screen. Where his lower body should have been was a giant puddle of blood and liquid flesh that filled most of the sitting space on the platform. More wires and blood-red organic tendrils emerged from this bio-organic mess, some dangling over the sides of the circular platform, others fusing with the machinery upon which they rested. Several loose strings of flesh stretched out from the sides of the monitor, where the Master's shoulders would have been had he actually been human. These flagella-like appendages waved lazily in the air. One of them even ended in a large, floating, lidded eyeball.

Looking at this ghastly deformed abomination, Albert had a sudden epiphany. The Master hadn't _made_ the Corridor into what it was. The Master _was _the Corridor. All those rivulets and waves of moving flesh that radiated out from the overseer's platform through the web of skin and blood – that twisted and turned continuously in the Corridor; that were slowly and progressively taking over the whole of this bottommost level of the vault – they were all part of the Master himself! Bit by bit, the Master was _becoming _the vault. Which meant only one thing concerning Peter and all those others who had been forced to walk through the Corridor and met their end there before him: they had all been consumed by the Master and were now _part of _him!

The Master glared down upon Albert from atop his unholy throne and the whole bio-organic room pulsated with his every expression. Albert had never been completely overwhelmed by the simple appearance of anything or anyone before, but now he stood literally paralyzed, rooted to the floor even without those tentacled appendages trying to drag him down into the floor. Standing there, small and alone and insignificant, beneath the shadow of the Master, Albert felt like he had was standing before some demonic judge who was about to condemn him to Hell. And there was nothing Albert could think of to stop it.

'I am impressed,' said the Master in that first voice Albert had heard over the radio – the voice of a middle-aged man. As he spoke, the screen just below his head came to life and a moving green line, like that of an EKG, began rising and falling in sequence with his words. 'Not only are you one of the few blessed with a low radiation count,' he continued, 'but you were also' '**strong enough to make it here alive.**' The second voice that finished the sentence was the distorted female voice Albert had also heard over the radio earlier. The Master's tone reverted partially back to its first form. 'Your talents would be **useful** to the' 'Unity.' The third voice, an automated male monotone that finished the sentence with that one word, was one Albert hadn't heard before. Put together, it was like hearing a group of different people taking turns to complete a sentence. It was a thoroughly disorienting experience.

For a long moment, Albert could neither say nor do anything in response, so overwhelmed by the presence of Master was he. His own vulnerability was so apparent that he knew that the smallest mistake could result in the instant termination of his life… or worse.

But it was in that realization of his utter weakness that Albert realized something new. He had forgotten that long before he had tactical battle plans and long before he had guns and the skills to use them, he had his oratorical skills. He wasn't _totally _defenseless. Of course, part of the art of persuading others was to be able to read them, and there was just no way of doing that with the Master; his body language was too alien to Albert to interpret; his vocal inflexions might have been telling, but he had at least three, maybe four, voices that Albert had to make sense of. And finally, the Master's plan seemed to be to turn everyone into super mutants. How was someone supposed to reason with a man who was willing to engage in cultural genocide – to wipe out an entire way of life by forcefully transforming people into something more in his own image?

But Albert had no other choice. If his own words were his only weapon, then he would use them exhaustively until he had not a single convincing one left to draw on. All he needed to do was to employ the same techniques as he had countless other times with others: get a feel for what he was up against and find out if there was anything the Master knew that he could use against him. He thought over his words and approach carefully, then spoke.

'Why…' He paused to summon up what strength he still had to face down the towering creature before him. 'Why would I want to join the Unity when it has been and will be responsible for the death of all the people I care about?' he deliberately challenged.

'Because your only other option would be to' 'DIE HERE!' the other angry younger man's voice Albert had also heard on the radio earlier finished the sentence in a condemnatory shout. '**You have caused too much trouble** **to the** Unity to be allowed to leave here any other way,' the other three voices said, each delivering its own part of the sentence.

'You present this "Unity" of yours as the solution to all the violence and fighting happening in the wasteland,' Albert argued, 'and yet all I have seen as a result of it has been more violence and more fighting which, even now, is escalating.'

'ENOUGH!' shouted the angry voice. 'I do not suffer your presence now to question **me**. ME!' This time it was a combination of the first man's voice, the female one, and the angry one. 'The time for negotiations is long over.'

Even as the Master spoke, Albert saw two panels on each side of the platform open up. From within their recesses, two intimidating, six-barreled, gatling weapons emerged and aimed themselves at him. These weren't basic military-grade chainguns, Albert thought to himself. The high-tech-looking barrels and the cooling radiators surrounding each barrel suggested to Albert that the weapons were far more advanced, probably based on either the laser or plasma technology he had seen in other energy weapons more recently. Without any protection except the flimsy purple robes he now wore, Albert knew that if he was hit by even one shot from those gatling weapons, it would be all over for him.

'So what shall it be?' said the Master. 'Do you join the Unity. Or do you die here? **Join**! DIE! **Join**! DIE!'

Albert was not prepared to allow it to end this way. There _had _to be a way to win back the high ground in his conversation with the Master. 'You need me alive to find Vault-13,' Albert stated.

'That is **independent** of your decision,' said the Master. 'Your PIPBoy has all the information I need.'

Albert shook his head confidently despite his anxiety and fear. 'I beat you to that.' He unfastened the PIPBoy from his wrist and let it drop to the ground. 'I made sure to delete all geographical records of Vault-13 before I came in here. If I refuse to join you and you kill me, you'll lose that chance.'

'My senses have picked up your fellow vault dweller's location on this floor, wandering the halls, trying to find you no doubt. If you don't tell me what I need to know, I'll make sure **she does. **So you see, I don'tNEED you.'

'Maybe not,' said Albert, going with the flow despite the unwelcome shock the Master's sudden revelation had given him. 'But it will be easier to take over the Vault with my help. I was a leader of the people and a planner before I came out here. I know how to override the Vault's security programs and open doors. You're army will be better of with me voluntarily helping you. But I can't willingly choose to help you unless you can prove to me that your Unity _is _the best course for humanity.'

'I DON'T HAVE TO PROVE ANYTHING TO YOU! **Prove**.'

'No, but it would be in your best interests. You already have dozens of super mutants, some smarter than others, I've observed. But how many of them fell short of the heights they could have reached had they truly been radiation-free? You need as many pure-strain, capable humans as possible, but just as importantly, you need those who truly believe in your vision.' Albert paused as the truth behind what he was about to say next struck him hard: 'I've been in the wasteland long enough to know it's a broken world. Nearly every settlement I've visited has been rife with crime and corruption. Believe me when I say I want peace as much as you do. There's nothing I want more than to put down my gun and live with my family and friends in a place of security and safety. And if there was a solution I believed in that could do that, I would be the first to sign on.' Albert paused again. 'But I can't know you represent the best future, unless you prove it to me.'

'Very demanding for one in your tenuous position,' the Master said, 'but you _would _prove to be a valuable ally. And I can respect your needs.'

Albert breathed an inward sigh of relief. _Score one point, at least for now_.'Then tell me,' he said out loud, 'what isthe Unity _really_ about? I know for a fact that the Children of the Cathedral I've spoken to have only part of the picture.'

'The Unity,' said the Master proudly, 'will bring about the masterrace. **Master!** MASTER! One able to survive, or even **thrive**, in the wasteland. As long as there are differences, we will TEAR OURSELVES APART fighting each other. We need one race. **Race! **RACE! One goal. GOAL! **Goal! **One people – to move forward to our destiny. Destiny.'

'That race being the mutants, of course,' Albert said as the scope of the Master's plan began to grow clearer in his mind. He tried not to show his awe at the massive scope of the whole thing. The Master didn't _just _want to create a mutant army to take over the wasteland; he wanted to completely change the demographics of the post-nuclear world! He wanted to replace every other human with a super mutant!

'Of course,' the Master said, pleased. '**Mutants are best equipped to deal with the world today. **Who else? THE GHOULS?Please. NORMALS?They brought nuclear death to us all. This will be the age of mutants. Mutants.'

Albert made a small gamble. 'Don't you think that's kind of… bigoted?' he ventured.

'We are all biased, are we not?' The Master countered. 'We each **care more **about our individual communities than other people. We haven't changed, and I'll tell you something else…'

'What's that?'

'We won't change. Not unless we are of one people. **One**. ONE. One. One race. **One**. ONE. One. The Unity will allow us to move beyond these petty concerns and deal with the major problems at hand. You want to be a part of that, don't you? **Part**. DON'T.'

Now that he had slowly come to terms with the true nature of the Master's plan, Albert reflexively found himself agreeing with a lot of what the Master had said. If the Master was in fact telling the truth, then there was something… almost noble, deeply underlying the basis for the Master's monstrous plan. The only thing that kept Albert focused on the reality of the situation and the actual severity of the Master's twisted designs was the notion that if it were carried out, Albert and thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, of others would suffer.

'So you plan on changing everyone into mutants?' Albert asked for verification.

'All that RESIST, yes. All those that are required for the **Unity **as well.'

'That's why you need my Vault,' Albert expressed his sudden realization.

'True,' the Master affirmed. 'I will turn all those pure strain HUMANS into mutants. They will give me the army I need to bring **peace to the **_**entire**_** wasteland**.'

It was all coming together now. Vault-13 wasn't just important to the Master's plans for Unification – it was _crucial_.It was the one last piece the Master needed to kickstart a massive invasion of the west coast of the North American continent! As for Vault-13, as a place filled with hundreds of radiation-free humans, it presented the perfect, perhaps only, way to expand the Master's army exponentially!

'And what of the rest of humankind?' asked Albert.

'The remainder will be allowed to live out their days, but under Unity CONTROL **and protection.** But none shall breed, for they will be the last of their race.'

That last revelation of the Master's plan was both terrible and yet at the same time ironic, and for a moment, Albert couldn't figure out why. But as he scanned his memory trying to pinpoint the reason his subconscious had found the Master's words so strangely poignant, the recollection suddenly hit him with blinding clarity. The Master's claim that he would prevent humans from breeding wasn't the first time Albert had heard about threats to the reproduction of an entire species.

'You've got a problem with your master plan,' he said as confidently as he could manage.

'And what is that?' the Master replied.

Albert took a small inward breath. 'I happen to know that your mutants are sterile.'

'PREPOSTEROUS!' the Master challenged. 'The FEV-2 virus doesn't destroy the reproductive organs of those it mutates.'

'Not physically, no. But it genetically alters all half-cells in the human body.'

'Do you have proof?'

For a second, Albert was stumped. Then he remembered the PIPBoy at his feet. He had made a record of the autopsy that Vree, back in the Brotherhood, had conducted on one of the super mutants! It had affirmed what Zax, the AI residing in the Glow, had hypothesized. The Master _had _to accept that.

Hoping he wasn't making a big mistake, Albert picked up the PIPBoy and tossed it over to the Overseer. One of the writhing flagella extending from the Master's oozing flesh caught the device in mid-air.

'It's in there,' Albert declared. 'An autopsy report on one of your mutants.'

Another of the Master's flagella inserted itself into one of the ports on the PIPBoy.

'I must digest this information. One moment…'

The Master was silent for a few protracted seconds – too long for Albert's comfort. As the hundreds of lines of the reports temporarily flashed across the screen in the middle of the Master's body, Albert began to perspire visibly as he wondered if the information in the report would convince the Master. 'I understand now,' the Master said, and for a moment, Albert thought he had finally gotten through to him. But his next words dashed Albert's hopes. 'You made a clever forgery,' the Master accused. 'You made this up to fool me. FOOL! **Me!**'

The gatling guns mounted on both sides began revving themselves as they prepared to obliterate Albert where he stood. Already, Albert could see himself being riddled with hundreds of bullets or laser blasts or plasma bolts or whatever it was that was about to fly out of those spinning barrels.

'You will pay for what you have done. PAY. Done,' the Master growled.

* * *

><p>While Albert was facing down the two gatling weapons mounted on the Master's platform, Natalia, in the meantime, had found herself standing before a curious sight. All her mental mapping had finally brought her to a new location – a mid-sized room with two visible Nightkin guards patrolling around a strange, large, metallic, tubular-shaped object connected by a carpet of thick wires to an access computer.<p>

Judging by the presence of the two guards, Natalia knew this room and this object had to be important. Double-checking that her stealth boy was functioning as it should, she waited for a gap in the patrol before racing over to the computer terminal.

Knowing she had at least a minute before the next guard passed close enough to spot her blurred silhouette, she rapidly hammered at the keys to bring up the active program on the computer screen.

She had expected some kind of authorization to be required to access the computer, so it came as no surprise that a window appeared on the screen, requesting an authorization code and access to key. But two words in the title of the window caused her blood to run cold: "thermonuclear warhead".

* * *

><p>Albert searched his mind desperately for some other rhetorical trick, but even in the toughest negotiations he ever had to be a part of, he had never had to do it down twelve gun barrels, let alone one.<p>

'You're lying!' he blurted out, half out of fear and half out of anger at the Master's unwillingness to accept the analysis of Vree's report. 'You're denying the facts in front of you!' The Master certainly didn't seem to like Albert's accusation but the possibility that Albert might be right gave him pause. Yet even though he hadn't been carved up by the Master's weapons, Albert still knew he was standing at the edge of a precipice. He needed to say something else to push the conversation forward and prevent the Master from changing his mind and activating those weapons.

So Albert said the only thing he could think of: 'Ask your _own_ mutants if you don't believe me!' he suggested before realizing he had just made the biggest gambit of all. Up until that point, everything Albert had suggested had lain within his control: the copy of Vree's autopsy on Albert's PIPBoy, Albert's own knowledge, and also his own persuasive skills. But now, in a flash of desperation, he had just tossed the ball over to the other court. In doing so, he realized he might well have lost control over the whole conversation.

'I believe I shall,' the Master replied, much to Albert's chagrin. 'Don't move.' Again, a long, drawn out moment of silence filled the gap between them and again Albert began to worry. When the Master replied, Albert's already frazzled nerves took yet another beating. Again, the gatling gun barrels spun, even more noisily this time. 'My scientists assure me that nothing is wrong,' the Master confirmed. 'What do you say to that? SAY!'

Albert suppressed the urge to panic. How could these scientists possibly have refuted Vree's findings and Zax's projections? Had the Brotherhood's best scientist and an AI gotten it wrong? But that couldn't be possible! Zax had the processing power of a supercomputer at his disposal and Vree had enormous drive and talent informing her work. The Master's "scientists" _had _to be mistaken. Either they were looking in the wrong place or were not as bright or thorough. _Or_, they simply didn't want to tell the Master something he didn't want to hear. Gritting his teeth, Albert desperately searched his mind for another solution, half expecting a hail of death to burst forth from the Master's two weapons at any moment.

And then he got it. _When the calculated, scientific route fails, take the most practical, obvious one_, he thought to himself.

'Did you think to ask a female mutant about pregnancy rates?' he suggested.

'Reasonable,' said the Master. 'One moment…' Again Albert was made to wait. The gatling weapons had stopped revving but their momentum kept the barrels spinning. Albert focused his sights on them, watching every rotation of each barrel, waiting for the one that would suddenly come to life and end his own. He closed his eyes, sure now that he had made a mistake. He hoped it would all end quickly.

_At least if he shoots me, I won't have to go back into the Corridor_, he said to himself. He'd much rather die at the hands of a bullet or a laser beam than have his mind ripped open a second time. Better to die than to become like that rambling man in the caverns or Dane in the Inner Sanctum of the Cathedral or Peter…

But with the Master's next words, Albert's eyes flew open in surprise. 'Are you sure? What about the other **females**?' said the Master, speaking his radio communication out loud now. That told Albert something. It was clear that Master could communicate remotely through the computers he had fused himself with. _And _he could do it without actually having to use his own vocal chords. He had just done it with his scientists awhile earlier, after all. But now, he was both communicating remotely _and _speaking out loud. Whatever news he had just received had clearly shaken him. Even the expression on his warped, disfigured face registered his shock. On that monstrous visage, Albert could clearly see the collapsing worldview that the Master had been holding onto from the start – the vision that had driven him on his mad quest in the first place.

And Albert knew that look. He remembered he had barely concealed that same expression when he had seen Garl, leader of the Khans, blow that poor woman's head off. He remembered he had actually betrayed some of that same look when he had first discovered that Doc Morbid had commercialized cannibalism. It was the look a person gives when his world starts crumbling to the ground. Now it was happening to this… _thing_ – this enemy of every human and ghoul living in the wasteland… And Albert, to his own surprise, found himself feeling pity for the Master.

But why? He had, himself, mercilessly executed others for committing far less egregious crimes. Misguided as he had been, here was a creature bent on destroying the lives of tens of thousands, maybe even every single person currently living in the North American continent… and yet Albert empathized with him – the least human of every sentient being Albert had ever come across in the wasteland.

'It cannot be. **Be**,' said the Master out loud to no one in particular. Gone was the self-confidence and pride. In its place was despair and hopelessness. 'There must be another way…'

Albert hardened himself. He had to strike now while his enemy was down. Finish him completely. 'Sorry,' he said without any sympathy in his voice. 'There's no other option.'

'But it cannot be,' the Master repeated, his voice on the verge of breaking. 'This would mean that… **all my work**… has been for nothing!' The Master's face was growing more distraught by the second. '_Everything _that I have tried to… A FAILURE! It can't **be. **BE. Be. Be.'

Albert gritted his teeth and delivered the final blow – the one that the Master, even now, would not be able to admit out loud on his own. Albert did not gloat; he did not taunt. He only stated the facts quietly and solemnly. 'Your race will die out after this generation.' Even in that chamber of flesh, Albert's damning words echoed loudly. If the Master had still been sure of himself and his vision, Albert was sure he would not have let him live for making such a statement. But now, it was the final nail in the coffin that the Master himself accepted.

'I… don't think I can continue. **Continue?**' The Master's eyes grew unfocused as the gravity of his misguided vision weighed ever more heavily upon him by the second. The steps he had taken to bring glorious salvation to the wasteland had now suddenly become revealed as the atrocities and acts of horror they had always been. 'To have done the things I have done in the name of progress and healing… It was madness. I can see that now. Madness. MADNESS?' He cast his eyes downward, defeated finally not by guns or explosions or even by Albert's words, but rather by his own loss of vision – the world he had known now crashing to pieces. 'There is no hope,' he mourned. And when he next looked up at Albert, there were tears in his eyes – very human tears that expressed a mixture of guilt, shame, despair, and self-loathing.

* * *

><p>Natalia stood before the nuclear bomb, wondering what the hell she was going to do. The bomb was live. That was clear. It also meant that for all this talk of Peace and Unity, the Nightkin and the Master were either full of shit or just terribly blind to their own hypocrisy. Natalia didn't think the Master had any active plans to use the weapon, but even the fact that he had it here, likely as a last resort of perhaps even as a deterent, was abhorrent to Natalia.<p>

Natalia knew she had to do something, but what? How was one to disarm a nuclear weapon? Even the thought of prying the bomb's casing open seemed like a stupid move. She didn't have Alex's skills, so she couldn't hack into the computer even if she wanted to, and, unlike Albert, there was no way she could just convince the Nightkin that it was in their best interests to disarm the…

Two lights along the side of the bomb lit up and began to blink.

_Oh… shit, _She thought to herself. _Please let this be a a system check. _

She waited for the guard to pass by. When his back was to the computer terminal, she raced towards the keyboard and activating the screen.

The numerals 480.00.00 flashed on the screen.

_Please no. Please no. Please no, _she muttered rapidly under her breath.

479.99.99. Natalia caught the flash of the sudden drop and then the numbers were spiralling rapidly downward in a manner that offered only one possible interpretation.

_FUCK! _

Natalia raced out of the room as the 480 second counter began.

* * *

><p>Albert saw the numbers appear across the screen below the Master's head. It was a countdown. But to what?<p>

The Master looked Albert in the eyes. 'Leave now,' he said softly. 'Leave while you still have hope…'

'But what—' Albert began.

'Those in the Corridor will let you pass,' the Master interrupted, 'as will my super mutants and those who guard the caves. Leave now.'

It was so sudden. There could have been so many things to talk about now that the Master had given up his mad plan to turn people into super mutants. For one, the Lieutenant was still operating in the north. Albert needed the Master to send some kind of message to stop the operations there.

But the damning countdown timer prevented Albert from saying another word. The Master had his head bowed and his eyes were closed. He had activated _something_. Something conclusive. Something terminal. And whatever it was, Albert was sure he didn't want to be around when the timer reached zero.

He turned and fled.

The Corridor offered no resistance this time. Even the flesh seemed still and subdued. He raced through it unscathed in a matter of seconds, exploding out into the passageway beyond and right into the middle of the gathered super mutants and their scout hostages.

Everyone seemed to be in a total state of confusion. The mutants all had their weapons lowered and the scouts had been freed of their bonds.

'Albert!' Laura gasped in surprise, thinking he had already perished. 'What's going on?' she said in amazement. 'Why are they letting us go?'

'No time,' Albert blurted. 'We need to get out. Now!' He grabbed her hand and pulled her back in the direction of the elevators. The three other scouts followed, still in a daze at the sudden turn of events. The super mutants themselves looked uncertain but the orders had been clear. They offered no resistance and merely watched in complete puzzlement as their most recent captives fled right in front of their eyes.

Albert and the rest were halfway to the elevators when a blurry figure before them materialized into the familiar shape of Natalia. She was sweating profusely and gasping even more heavily than they were.

'Natalia!' Albert shouted in surprise and relief. 'What are you—'

'We need to get out of here _right now_!' she practically shouted. 'There's a _fucking _nuclear warhead about to wipe out this entire vault!' Even though it was the least rational thing to do, everyone stopped, their jaws dropping at the horrible revelation Natalia had just laid before them. '_MOVE!_' she screamed at them and was off, leading the sprint back to the elevators. The doors slid shut behind them and the old elevator cart rumbled upwards… too slowly. Natalia kept glancing down at the her PIPBoy's clock function.

'How much time do we have?' Albert asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

'Just under six minutes,' came the reply. 'Let's just hope we don't have a power outage right now.'

'How are we going to outrun a nuclear explosion in six minutes?!' one of the scouts yelped.

'Vaults were built underground to withstand nuclear explosions above. That should work both ways,' said Albert. _I hope, _he finished silently.

When the elevator finally reached the main lobby floor, Albert, Natalia and the rest practically pulled the slowly opening doors apart in their desperation to get as far away from the lowest level of the old vault before the end came.

Out in the caves, the floaters and centaur themselves were confused. The Master must have communicated with them somehow for they deliberately stood their distance as the two vault dwellers, the three scouts, and Laura sprinted through the darkness to the basement of the Cathedral.

Through the secret entrance they ran, past the broken furniture and the concealed corpse of Morpheus, and up the hidden staircase where the one Nightkin guard stood, making no move to stop them. Back into the nave they raced, barreling past almost two dozen other initiates.

A man in purple robes emerged from the rectory as they ran past.

'What is the meaning of this?!' he demanded angrily, but could do nothing to stop their flight.

They burst through the three main doors of the Cathedral with less than three minutes to spare, into the large crowd of chanters, initiates, and visitors which parted in collective surprise.

Katja and Dogmeat met them halfway to the nearest line of buildings. Katja looked puzzled but didn't stop to question them. She knew something bad was about to happen and led them through the safest, unguarded, routes away from the Cathedral.

The group didn't stop, not even to retrieve Albert and Natalia's stashed combat armor, assault rifles, and stored plastic explosives. They didn't even stop when they had put several blocks of buildings between them and the black towering building behind them.

Back in the Cathedral, no one knew what was going on. Among the throngs of people, many wondered openly amongst themselves who the fleeing people were and why the Nightkin weren't pursuing them. They kept their conversations up until a deep rumbling cut off all speech.

A flash of light that was so bright that it lit the Cathedral up from within erupted with enough luminescence to blind everyone in the vicinity. For the briefest moment, the tall floor-to-ceiling stainglass windows fulfilled their purpose marvelously, casting bright orange and red rays of light for thousands of feet in every direction. Then, a split second later, all the windows shattered in rapid succession. The light grew even brighter as only the skeletal concrete structure of the Cathedral remained. Even the three heavy doors at the entrance of the Cathedral couldn't keep out the light. It flashed through the gaps between them before an intense wave of pressure blasted them all off their hinges, instantly killing dozens of people who had been standing too close to them.

The loudest and biggest explosion Albert, Natalia and the rest had ever seen or heard, or even _imagined_ seeing and hearing, instantaneously turned night into day. The mini-quake that shook the ground beneath their feet threw them all off their feet.

The bomb had indeed been too far below ground to reach them but it had been more than sufficient to completely obliterate every inch of the once mighty and imposing fortress of the Children of the Cathedral, along with every one of its members and visitors who had been in or around it at the time.

Millions of concrete fragments and splinters of wood rained down from the sky as humankind's newest and grandest construction met the very same end that hundreds of thousands of other buildings had suffered almost eighty-five years ago. As with other monuments humans had once built and gazed upon with pride and satisfaction, all that remained in the end was a giant crater in the ground.

As the light faded, the debris settled, and the noise became swallowed once again by silence, the vault dwellers and the those of the Followers of the Apocalypse who had survived got up and then just stood still in amazement at everything that had transpired and been accomplished that day. The mutant menace in the south, ultimately by the very will of the Master himself, was finally over.


	32. Chapter 31: Reunions

Well... this chapter kind of took me by surprise (also more character navel-gazing than I had intended). It's not very often that I end up writing something in a way that I was not intending when I set out to do it. Strange... Anyway, as projected, I managed to get this one done within a month despite the significantly heavier workload I'm facing now. So we're still on track.

**Chapter Thirty-One: Reunions**

It was in the middle of April, eight days after the events at the Cathedral, when Albert, Natalia, and Dogmeat finally returned to the Brotherhood of Steel. Their arrival was greeted with much fanfare, especially once it became known that the leader of the mutant armies had been destroyed along with his base of operations. Of course, the mutant production facility in the north was still unaccounted for and would likely still be operating under some kind of second-in-command – that "Lieutenant" they had heard about on several occasions. But the news about the Master's end was nevertheless a heartening one.

Before they had left the Boneyard, Albert and Natalia had been sure to let Razor and the rest of her Blades know just how much the Followers of the Apocalypse had sacrificed for them and the rest of Adytum. Katja, to everyone's surprise, had experienced some kind of a change-of-heart after the events at the Cathedral and had decided to stay at Adytum after all, at least until the Followers found "its new meaning and purpose in Adytum." Or at least that was what Katja had said. Natalia suspected Katja simply realized just how dear her friends from the Followers truly were to her, especially after the loss of so many of the scouts, not just on that day itself but over the course of the previous months.

Alex was overjoyed to see them and the first thing he did, after giving them both warm hugs, was to show off his official Brotherhood insignia on his combat armor and his rank of "Journeyman Knight". Both Albert and Natalia were clearly impressed by just how fast he had climbed the ranks, surpassing by far any of his peers who had been training weeks or even months before he had even arrived on the scene.

'I'm working on something for you,' Alex said proudly to Albert.

'For me?' Albert laughed in surprise. 'What for?'

'Well, to be honest, I would have just kept it for myself, but it didn't fit. It's more your size.'

'What is it?' Albert asked. 'It better not be briefs.'

'You'll just have to wait until it's done,' Alex replied. 'A master never reveals his art until it's finished.' Alex paused and frowned as he noticed something different about Albert. 'You said you two had gone through your little makeovers to disguise yourself before going into the Cathedral, didn't you?' he asked,

'What about it?' Albert asked in return.

'Why would you…' Alex reached for the hair on Albert's head and with a sudden pull, yanked a couple of strands of hair from his head.

Albert yelped at the sudden pain. 'What the hell was that for?!'

'Why would you dye some of your hair white?' Alex finished, handing the broken strands to Albert.

'That's weird,' Albert commented, staring in disbelief at the white strands of hair. 'When did that happen?'

'Well, it had to have happened _after _Katja dyed it,' Natalia pointed out. 'I'm sure it was all black when we set out from Adytum.' She froze for a second and her eyes found Albert's. She remembered talking to him at the first opportunity they had gotten after the Cathedral's destruction. While they had been recovering back in Adytum, she had narrated to him everything that had happened after they had been forced to split up back in the caves. Albert, in turn, had told her his story of breaking out of his disguise to prevent the slaughter of the scouts, and then his meeting with the Master. But he had left out a whole slew of details. Natalia had been about to try and pressure more out of him but the haunted look in his eyes had made her stop short.

And now this… She hadn't really noticed it because the two of them had been together the past few days all the way until they had reached the Brotherhood; the change must have been gradual. But Alex hadn't seen them in just over two-and-a-half-weeks and could see the difference clearly. To him, Albert's hair had once been dark brown; now it was black with a disturbingly significant amount of grey in it.

'It's probably just stress,' Albert said to shrug off Alex's question, but his eyes remained on Natalia's. He still couldn't bring himself to tell her about the Corridor. He hadn't said a word about it so far. Based on what he had told her, Natalia assumed Peter had simply gone in and been killed by the Master; she didn't even know the Corridor existed. And Albert hadn't made any attempt to correct her ignorance. He knew she knew he hadn't told her everything, but he just… couldn't. He hadn't even given her more than a cursory description of the Master himself, promising he would tell her later when he had come to terms with it.

It was funny. Ever since he had had more time to think about the events in the vault below the Cathdral and about the conversation he had had with the Master, he had become even more troubled – not just by the horrors he had seen and felt but also by just how much he actually agreed with the Master in principle. He, like the Master, was prepared to do anything to save his race. The Master had wanted to replace humanity with super mutants in order to bring sentient existence into a epoch of universal peace; Albert had never thought on such a large and encompassing philosophical scale, but the last time he had left Vault-13, it had been with the resolve to do whatever was necessary to save his people in the Vault. The only difference between the two them was that Albert's people were humans and the Master's were super mutants.

'Well, you sure as hell accomplished a lot despite the stress,' said Alex, shaking Albert out of his troubled reverie. 'Maybe it's time you kicked back and got some much needed R&R. After what _you _two did, you deserve that and more.'

'Well it _is _late,' said Albert, 'and we've been walking for hours already.'

'I'll show you to your new quarters,' said Alex.

'Alex,' a female voice called from down the corridor. Alex turned and the two other vault dwellers saw him give a warm smile to the blonde-haired woman in power armor heading their way.

'Hey!' he said excitedly. 'Did you hear what my two friends here just accomplished?'

'How could I not?' said Jennifer. 'The whole bunker's alive with the gossip!'

Albert and Natalia traded curious glances.

'This is Jennifer,' Alex introduced her to his two friends. 'She's a paladin. We…'

'We're friends,' Jennifer finished. Alex looked crestfallen. 'In my books, you only get to say you're dating someone if it's lasted at least a month.' She bent down, so she wasn't towering over Alex in her power armor, and planted a light kiss on Alex's cheek. Given the height and size disparity, it was a strange and slightly comical sight.

'Well, there's hope for you yet,' Albert said, smiling broadly.

Alex looked like he was on the verge of a blush. 'Come on, I'll take you to your bunk,' he said to Albert. He couldn't help but break into a smile.

'I'll show you yours,' Jennifer said to Natalia.

'Alex,' Natalia called as the two men turned to leave. Her face betrayed a look of concern. 'Where's Tycho?'

Alex stopped smiling. 'He's still out looking for the base in the north with a couple of the paladins.' Natalia frowned worriedly. 'I'm sure they're all fine,' Alex said reassuringly. 'He's already been back once and that was _after _wiping out a patrol of super mutants. You sure know how to pick 'em, Natalia. That one's a keeper.'

* * *

><p>In the dream, Albert was falling. Down below him lay a sea to break his fall. But it wasn't a blue sea of water. This one looked murky and a ruddy beige color. And it was viscous too, like lava. But it wasn't lava. And it was only as Albert's descent brought him closer to the sea that he realized it was a thick, oozing substance with large, round, open orifices scattered all across its surface.<p>

As he got even closer, however, Albert's mouth opened in a silent gasp at the realization that it was a sea of faces he was looking at – faces with their mouths stretched wide open in a permanent state of wailing and anguish.

And then he hit the surface. It was thick and he felt himself slowly being sucked into it. He struggled desperately to kick his way up and keep his head above the surface. But the consistency of the sea was changing. The faces all merged and became one giant face with a mouth stretched opened wide, filled with a black ichor, like dark blood. And in that tar-like pool, flesh-colored tentacles began sprouting all around Albert. The familiar shape of a head began to emerge from the liquid ahead of him. It had large wires sticking out of ports in its otherwise human head. And then the familiar face broke the surface of the blackness.

'You would do anything to **save your people, **wouldn't you?' suggested the Master. 'How are you any DIFFERENT from me? **How are you better?**'

As the Master rose even higher above the surface, Albert could see the Master's chest. But instead of a computer monitor, there was just another black hole. 'You and I are the same,' said the Master in a condemnatory voice. Then the Master lurched forward, the hole in his chest growing bigger to swallow Albert whole.

Albert shouted out loud and rolled completely out of his bunk bed, striking the floor with a loud thump and likely waking any of the other initiates sleeping in the other beds. At the very least, Albert was sure he had woken the initiate on the bunk just above him.

Albert groaned and got to his feet, making his way over the bathroom. There, he switched on the lights and stared into one of the mirrors at his bloodshot eyes. He bent over to the basin and splashed water repeatedly all over his face. Then he ran his wet hands through his hair and sighed.

He paused and took a second look at his own hair. Alex had been right. There _was _a significant amount of white in it, enough so that it would be visible to anyone standing just a few feet away. There was only one thing he could think of that could have caused such a change.

Even before he could stop himself, memories of his walk through the Corridor flooded his mind and he could feel his heart beginning to race and his breath involuntarily becoming quicker. He leaned heavily against the sink, his head bowed as he he tried to still his breathing and calm his frazzled nerves.

When Natalia found him ten minutes later, he was in the mess hall nursing a cup of that coffee-like beverage the Brotherhood scribes synthesized.

'That stuff'll keep you awake for hours,' she warned him.

'Not like I'm getting to sleep anyway,' he returned.

'It's _that _again, isn't it?'

Albert didn't respond, which was just as good an answer.

'Have you thought of… talking to the medical staff here? Those who are trained in helping people through… y'know…'

'Thing is, I don't want to relive what happened down there, not even for myself. So there's no way I'm going to tell a shrink about my nightmares.'

Natalia nodded. 'What are you going to do, then?'

'There's only one thing _left_. We finish what we set out to do.'

'I was talking about you.' Natalia gave him a concerned look. 'Are you… okay going the next leg of the journey? From what you've told me, I've gotten the impression that you had quite a number of very close calls back at the Cathedral. Do you need some time to… recover?'

'There _is _something I need to do first,' Albert agreed. 'There's someone I need to see back home in the Vault. I need closure. I need to know I left no loose ends before…'

Natalia reached out and took hold of Albert's hand. 'You're _not _going to die. _We're _not going to die. We've beaten crazy odds so many times before. And we've already come so far. We're gonna finish this. We're gonna see this through.'

'That's what I thought as well… until that last time,' Albert said. 'It wasn't the same. I just… I just want to make sure all my things are in order… just in case, y'know?'

Natalia sighed. 'Alright, Albert. I'll need to let Alex know, but I'm sure we could be good to go in a day or two at most.'

'No,' Albert shook his head, trying to smile at her concern. 'I know how badly you want to see Tycho again. I know you haven't said much about it, but I can see it. For all we know, he could be backin a day or two. And Alex… I think he's found himself a life here… not to mention a potential companion. This will just be me.'

'I can't let you go back alone.'

'I won't be alone. Dogmeat will be with me.'

The next morning, Albert was gone. Natalia came to learn that, unlike other Brotherhood of Steel members, both herself and Albert had been given a significant amount of leeway to come and go as they pleased thanks to what they had accomplished in the south. In fact, ever since the Glow, the whole lot of them had gained a reputation and something of a minor celebrity status for themselves not only amongst the recruits and soldiers of the Brotherhood but also among the commanders. Rhombus, head of the paladins, clearly wasn't pleased by the breach of protocol this had caused, but the instructions had come from Maxson himself – the vault dwellers were allowed to do as they pleased so long as their plans did not go against the Brotherhood's own.

And so no one had tried to stop Albert when he left. Instead, he had been provided another suit of combat armor and a new AK-112, and coordinates for the resupply point that Tycho and the other scouts were using as a forward staging area for all their reconnaissance activities. Given Vault-13's location far to the north and east, it made more sense for Albert to meet Alex, Natalia, and the rest at the forward outpost rather than return all the way back down south to the Brotherhood's main bunker.

Fifteen days had been the agreed upon duration before they would reconvene at the resupply outpost. From there, the plan was that they would all wait for Tycho to return to resupply his rations from his most recent scouting expedition, and then aid him as best they could in finding the mutant base and figuring out what to do next.

With the plan set, it therefore came as a surprise when, three days later, news began to spread rapidly through the bunker that the scouts had not only returned to but had descended straight to the lowest level where an emergency meeting with the Elders had been hastily organized.

Not wanting to be inadvertently excluded from the proceedings, Natalia raced down to the meeting room. Pushing her way through the crowd of overeager initiates who were waiting to hear whatever news they could about what the scouts had found, Natalia found herself in what must have once been a small multifaith chapel built within the bunker for religious staff and soldiers. It looked a lot like the nave of the Cathedral in the south except far smaller, more spartan, and far more sanitary in appearance. The pews were nicely fashioned if mighty uncomfortable-looking. A stage had been constructed at the chancel with a podium but, instead of the Children of the Cathedral's nuclear trefoil symbol, there was the Brotherhood's symbol of the gears, sword, and wings, brazenly displayed on the ground right in the center of the stage.

On either side of the stage were two round doors leading into the meeting room beyond (that, once upon a time, had probably functioned as an inner sanctuary to the church), and it was through one of these doors that Natalia spotted the all-too-familiar shape of the man she had been missing for weeks.

'Tycho!' she yelled just as the group was about to step beyond the threshold.

The weary ranger turned, but before he could register any surprise, Natalia had closed the distance between them. He had barely enough time to drop his shotgun when she leapt bodily into his arms, her strong legs wrapping around his waist in the most intense hug she had ever given anybody. Her lips found his and they kissed long, hard, and deep in front of the other bemused scouts. She broke the kiss once, but only to take a breath before diving in again.

It was only when the scout leader coughed loudly and reminded them that the Elders were waiting that the two lovers finally broke their kiss.

'You're back,' Natalia crooned. 'I love that you're back.' She traced a finger along his jawline, now covered in a coarse, dust-covered beard. 'You need a shave, though.'

'I need a lot more than shave,' he said suggestively.

The scout leader coughed again, loudly and more obnoxiously this time.

'After you give your report,' Natalia said. She detached herself from Tycho and moved to follow him into the meeting room. The guard in power armor who had been standing beside the door moved to stop her.

'Only the scouts are permitted in here, ma'am,' he said.

'How about those responsible for ending the mutant threat to the south?' She glared expectantly and unmovingly at the guard. She couldn't see his expression since he had his helmet on, but she was sure he was trying to decide between angering her by denying her entrance or possibly angering the Elders by admitting an unwanted guest. He chose the option that saved him from the most immediate tongue-lashing. Stepping aside, he allowed Natalia passage.

Inside, the meeting room had been arranged around a rectangular table that was large and long enough to seat a dozen people. The scouts and Tycho sat at one end while the five Elders, Maxson included, sat at the other. Rows of seats for the audience had been arranged along the wall of the room. Natalia took the closest one amidst a crowd of about thirty other people – the higherups in the Brotherhood hierarchy.

'The meeting will come to order,' said one of the robed Elders. 'All Elders are present and have agreed to hear out the claims of Brother Tycho before we determine what actions will be taken. Brother Tycho, as leader of the scouting expedition—' Natalia's eyes widened in surprise. Since when had Tycho taken over as leader? '—tell us what your team has found to the north.'

'During our explorations of the northern territory, we found a fortified military installation built into the side of a mountain several hours northeast of what was previously Mariposa county. It is heavily guarded and patrolled regularly.'

The room became abruptly silent.

'What did these mutants look like?' the Elder asked. Everyone else listened intently with bated breath.

'They are large humanoids,' Tycho replied. 'Their muscle mass is well beyond what a regular human could ever gain.'

'And you said they were guarding the installation?'

'They guard the gate in organized troops of six mutants each that rotate every six hours. Others patrol the surrounding area in squads of three or four.'

'As you may know,' one of the other Elders spoke up, 'our Head Scribe, Vree, has done autopsies on creatures very similar to what you have just described. Do you believe these are the same?'

'Yes. The description of the creatures in her reports are nearly identical to what we saw.'

'What threat do you assume these "mutants" pose?' one of the more skeptical Elders asked.

Tycho paused a second to collect his words. 'Just as the Brotherhood has been gearing up for battle, this mutant army has been preparing for something big. In the first few days while we were traveling north, we saw new squads of mutants moving southeast, past the bunker here and heading somewhere to the southeast, presumably Necropolis.'

'We read that report,' said the skeptical Elder, 'and I would like to reiterate that you overstepped your boundaries by attacking one of their parties. Frankly, your report has not shown us any proof that they seek to become a threat to us. What evidence can you give that they have hostile intentions?'

Tycho looked incredulous. 'If you read the report or listened to anything I or Alex have been saying, you'd know that the super mutants have _invaded_ Necropolis and wiped out all the ghouls. And you can bet they won't stop there. The new squads arriving from the north are coming with the express purpose of building up an army in the City of the Dead.'

'That's speculation on your part,' said another Elder.

'Maybe so,' said Tycho, 'but it's an army with military-grade weapons and worse, and it's growing weekly if not daily. Organizing the movement of so many groups from the base in the north to Necropolis requires a lot of resources to support. This is an army they're putting all their effort into. They're certainly not just going to let it sit there and do nothing. You can be sure they intend to use it.'

'So, by these actions they are taking,' said Maxson, speaking before any of the other more skeptical Elders could say anything further, 'you believe it is feasible that they will eventually come here?'

'It is possible that they are already on their way,' Tycho replied, sending a collective murmur of discomfort through the audience.

'What makes you say that?' asked the first Elder who had convened the meeting.

'I've seen them in action. The Brotherhood is the only real opposition they could have to whatever it is they are planning for the wasteland.'

'It's obvious something needs to be done,' said Maxson. 'We should fortify the fortress and surprise those damn mutants when they arrive.'

'You can't play defense on this one,' Tycho countered.

'What do you suggest?' asked the first Elder. 'A preemptive strike at their military base?'

'We can't empty out our fortress here,' the last Elder who had yet to speak said. 'If what you say is true, then it would be foolish to leave this place underguarded.'

'There's an alternative,' said Tycho. 'Going in at full strength wouldn't work without heavy losses anyway. What I propose is create a diversion to allow a small team into their perimeter without being detected. It would have a much higher chance of success without the unnecessary losses, and you would not have to commit the entire Brotherhood force.'

The room's silence was broken by dozens of small group conversations. Tycho's suggestion had hit its mark.

'We will take your proposal into consideration,' said the first Elder. He turned to the most highly ranked individual sitting in the front row of the audience. 'Rhombus, if you could remain for the deliberations…'

'As you wish,' the head paladin said in his gravely voice.

'As for the rest of you,' the first Elder continued, 'this meeting is adjourned.'

Half an hour later, only Tycho and Natalia were readmitted into the meeting room.

'Based on your report, observations, and recommendations,' Maxson announced, 'we have deemed your proposed plan the best option we have. We have taken into consideration that every day we wait to act, the mutant armies will only grow stronger and larger in size. As such, we have arranged for a forward team to leave tomorrow to set up a new staging area closer to the base than the current one. Two teams will assemble there. The first will be led by Rhombus as a diversionary team to draw as many super mutants away from the base as possible. The second you will lead. You shall have three paladins of Rhombus' choosing to accompany you and help you get inside the base. Both these teams will be given three days to assemble themselves here, be briefed, and make adequate preparations for the task ahead. In addition, for your strike team, we have also cleared a weapons upgrade for each member in addition to the usual supplies available from the quartermaster. Make your preparations but also get as much rest as you can. Elders, thank you for your time. And to you, Brother Tycho, best of luck.'

Even after Maxson had dismissed the gathering, still neither Tycho nor Natalia could believe their ears. They hadn't even been sure the Elders would be convinced to go on the offensive, even if only to create a diversion and commit just a few soldiers to the task. Now, they had not only received the full backing of the Brotherhood but also the most rapid and pointed response they could ever have hoped for.

'You _realize _this doesn't give us much time to ourselves, don't you?' Natalia told Tycho as they left the meeting room to tell Alex the news.

'Then we'll just have to speed things up,' said Tycho, leaning over to kiss Natalia full on the lips as a taste of things to come.

The next day, Alex, Jennifer, Erwin – the initiate they had rescued from Decker all those months ago – two other paladins, and two other knights, left early to establish and secure the site for the staging area before the two strike teams arrived. Two days after, Rhombus and a section of ten paladins left the bunker together with Tycho and Natalia's insertion team (comprised of themselves and three other paladins). With them were most of the supplies they would need for their offensive expedition against the military base. If necessary, more supplies could be requested and sent at a later time but that was something the Elders were reluctant to authorize. After all, every resources they sent north meant they had that much less to defend themselves should the super mutants gathered at Necropolis decide to attack.

* * *

><p>Five days after Natalia and Tycho had been reunited, another reunion was about to take place in a location far removed from the bunker. While the atmosphere amongst the members of the Brotherhood of Steel was heavy with the anticipation of impending war, the mood back in Vault-13 was strikingly different. Oblivious to the events occurring on the surface, all but a small proportion of vault dwellers were going about their daily lives as they had since their first day in the vault, whether that was as refugees of the nuclear holocaust of 2077 or as newborns knowing nothing of the world beyond the large outer vault door.<p>

Pat was one of those who still not only thought about the outside world, as all the members of the Exodus did regularly, but also about those who were out there risking their lives for everyone else in the Vault. On a whim, she flicked on her computer and remotely accessed the Overseer's personal computer using the computer worm Alex had designed. She accessed the cameras outside the outer vault door, more as a matter of habit than because she actually expected to find anyone outside. She had been doing that on and off over the past few months since Albert and the rest had last left the Vault.

Because she wasn't expecting to see anything new in the video feed, the flash of movement as the footage from the past few weeks was fast forwarded almost caused her to jump out of her seat. She clicked on the timeline and rewound the footage till she was able to locate the image of an all too familiar face appear outside the door.

Albert was back! She couldn't believe it! Her heart thumped in excitement. Could it be? Had they actually managed to end the super mutant threat that the Overseer had occasionally written about in his personal electronic diaries (which she had also read thanks to the computer worm)? Why else would Albert be back. But… where was everyone else? And why…

Pat frowned as the time of the video-capture finally registered in her brain. It was taken two mornings ago! Why hadn't anyone been alerted? The Overseer, at the very least, must have known Albert had returned, otherwise, the outer door would have remained shut. Even if Albert had overriding access for the door, the elders of the Vault at least would have known it had been opened. But if either of those scenarios were the case, then why had the Overseer made no announcement of Albert's return, unlike the last time? And where was Albert now?

Powering down her computer, Pat raced to Albert's room.

* * *

><p>Now that he was back, Albert wasn't sure his return had been such a good idea. He had given the Overseer his report on the mutants in the vault under the Cathedral, then had promptly retreated to his room for the previous two days, requesting that no announcement be made to the vault until he had properly prepared himself to face the crowds of people. Once they were made aware of his return, they would no doubt be lining up to ask him questions of what had been happening over the past three months. After seeing Albert's graying hair and realizing the stresses Albert must have gone through, however, the Overseer had been only too ready to comply to his wishes.<p>

Funny. While still on the journey back, he had thought returning home would have been a cause for relief and personal celebration. And yet now that he was back, Albert found he didn't want to see anyone. He wasn't even sure if he actually wanted to see Pat anymore. Albert looked again into the mirror in his bathroom. There was definitely more gray now than even eight days ago when he had left the Brotherhood. And there was a gauntness to his face and a troubled look in his eyes that hadn't been there the last time he had been set foot in this very room. Even the Overseer, composed as he was, had not completely been able to conceal his surprise at the change in Albert's appearance. With that knowledge, Albert wasn't sure he wanted Pat to see him like this.

But that had been the whole point in coming back, hadn't it? To give everyone proof that the super mutants were a force to be reckoned with, not only as an army of super soldiers but also in the ways in which they could break a person mentally. The vault dwellers needed to understand the reality of the situation just in case he (and Alex and Natalia) failed in their next and final task.

Ever since the three of them had returned with the water chip, they had become larger-than-life heroes in the eyes of the other vault dwellers. In the Vault's darkest hour, they had pulled through and performed a miracle. So of_ course _the vault dwellers now expected them to return victorious after defeating the mutants. And so, of _course_, Albert needed to disenchant them of that notion. Victory was _not _assured and the sooner the vault dwellers realized that, the sooner they could start planning to flee the Vault should the need arise.

A knock on the door to his room gave Albert a start. He kept silent. Who else knew he was back except the Overseer? But why would the Overseer come all the way to his room when he could simply place a call through the room's intercom system?

'Albert?' came an all too familiar voice – a voice he now dreaded hearing above that of any of the other Vault residents. What to do now? If he kept silent long enough, she'd assume he wasn't in his room. But the fact remained that she somehow knew he had returned. Why else would she knock, albeit hesitantly?

Albert briefly considered the ludicrous thought of putting a cap over his graying hair, but then realized that even if that somehow fooled her, which he knew it wouldn't, there was still the change in his facial appearance. There was just no hiding what his time beneath the Cathedral had done to him. And with that realization came a second one: gone was his trademark self-confidence that had seen him through the early adult years of his life. He tried giving that smug but charismatic smile that had helped him win arguments and convince obstinate listeners on so many occasions in the past. But he couldn't do it. In his reflection, it came out as a pained grimace.

He splashed his face once more with water from the faucets.

… And the next time he looked up, he found the hideous visage of the Master glaring back at him in the mirror.

'You and I are **the same**,' said the Master in both his middle-aged male and distorted female voice. 'We both do terrible things to ensure the survival of those we care about.'

'We are _nothing_ alike,' Albert argued back, before realizing he had just spoken out loud to an imagined voice.

'What would _you _do to save those you **love**?' the Master challenged. 'Whose lives would _you _RUIN?'

'Mine?' came Garl the Khan leader's voice, seemingly out of nowhere.

'Mine?' said Gizmo's in his corpulent, oily wheeze.

'Mine?' Decker said icily.

'Mine?' came Iguana Bob's pained voice.

'What about mine?' said Ian.

'NO!' Albert howled his defiance.

'Albert?' came a different voice. It was Pat again. She had heard him this time. There was no hiding now.

He headed for the door. 'I'm coming,' he said, surprised at just how weary his voice sounded. He walked past Dogmeat who had been sleeping but had woken at the sound of his shout. Albert gave Dogmeat a quick pat on the head to let him know everything was alright, then moved over to the room door. He opened it and was greeted by the countenance of the woman he had thought of in his darkest moment back in the lowest level of the Master's vault.

She saw his face and his hair and he could immediately see the shock register on her face. It was as painful to see as he had imagined it would be. Yet instead of standing motionless or, even worse, stepping away, Pat moved into the room and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tighter in the most intense bear hug he had ever been given. The scent of her recently washed hair and the snug feeling of the contours of her body pressed voluntarily and intensely against his nearly overwhelmed his senses.

'Albert, what did they do to you?' she said in a voice that, to his surprise, was overwrought with emotion. When she finally broke the hug, it was only to look up at him with an infinite amount of worry welling up in her wide eyes. Oblivious to the fact that they had never been physically close before, aside from the occasional platonic hug, she ran her fingers through his hair as if she couldn't believe that the graying wasn't just on the surface.

Albert reluctantly but gently pushed her back and turned away.

'Albert, your hand!' she cried out suddenly.

Albert looked down and realized, with surprise, that his right hand was bleeding. A small jagged piece of broken mirror was protruding from the base of his index finger. He suddenly realized he must have smashed the mirror earlier in his imagined conversation with the Master. Strange. He hadn't even felt the pain or remembered striking the mirror.

'It's nothing,' he said, but she was already pulling him back into the bathroom where she administered to his wounds with lots of water, disinfectant, and a clean towel. For several minutes she worked in silence and Albert did nothing to encourage conversation or hinder her first aid efforts. Eventually, when she was in the final stages of bandaging his hand with supplies taken from the emergency medical cabinet in the corridor outside, she once again found the words to continue their interrupted conversation.

'Where are the others?' she asked as she put the final touches onto his bandages.

'They're still alive,' he said, wincing internally at how cold the words sounded. That in itself was strange. With anyone else he wouldn't have cared what they thought of him; he would have said the same words and not given a second thought to them. Why did it matter so much what she thought of him? As if to make amends, he opened up a little more by proceeding to recount for her everything that had happened since he had last been back… Almost everything. Over the course of three hours, interspersed only by the occasional sip from an old bottle of whiskey he had purchased ages ago from the Hub, Albert brought her up to speed on the state of the mission assigned by the Overseer, except of course the details about what had transpired below the Cathedral.

'Natalia and Tycho have each other,' he explained to Pat in closing. 'There's nothing in the Vault Natalia could possibly want or need. Everything about the new life she's created for herself is up there on the surface. And Alex…' He paused, remembering the conversation he had once had with Alex specifically about Pat herself. Things had certainly changed for Alex since then, likely for the better. That outdated conversation no longer held any weight. 'Alex seems to be on the path to building a bright future for himself up there as well. It's just me, I'm afraid. Me and Dogmeat, that is.' He glanced down fondly towards the corner of the room where Dogmeat had curled up to sleep on two plush blankets Albert had thrown down just for his canine companion's use. 'We came back…' he continued, pausing to check his words. '_I _came back… to find closure. To set my affairs in order before we headed back out…'

'What… do you mean?' Pat asked worriedly.

'Let's face facts here,' Albert said. 'With the mutants in the south, Natalia and I were more than lucky to have resolved it without starting a war and getting ourselves killed. I just… don't think that's going to happen with the mutant base to the west of here. The mutant numbers in the south were growing but they were still limited. The military base, on the other hand… that's the one that's _creating _all the mutants. There'll be hundreds of them at the very least. There's no two ways about it: however this thing plays out in the end, there's going to be casualties. On both sides. It's very possible that Alex or Natalia or Tycho or myself may not be coming back from this one…'

'Don't say that,' Pat said seriously.

'But it's true,' Albert retorted just as seriously. 'I'd like to say that everything we've accomplished so far was all thanks to our skill and proficiency but, at the end of the day, it was luck, plain and simple. And…' he absently scratched at his graying hair, 'I think my luck's just about run out. I just wanted the people here to know what the odds were. I owe them that much. I owe Theresa and _you _that much.'

'Stop, Albert,' Pat pleaded, her voice cracking just a little.

Albert stopped, surprised but also touched by how distraught the prospect of their possible deaths had made her. He moved from his chair and sat beside her on the small sofa. He placed his hand on hers. Her hand was warm to the touch.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'It's the wasteland mentality at work. We've seen so much death on the surface that we've started to accept it as the norm.'

'It's more than just that,' said Pat, shifting a little so that she could look him in the eye. 'It's not the thought that people could die that's so difficult for me to come to terms with. 'It's… it's your attitude towards it. It's as if you've already decided you're not going to come back.'

'It's not that,' he replied. 'It's just….' He paused. How could he explain it to her without bringing back those memories of the Cathedral? It was as if even just recalling those memories would be enough to bring back those damning voices from the Master's Corridor swimming back into his head. He had to shut it out – couldn't allow those memories to rise back to the surface.

'Albert,' said Pat gently, sensing his distress. He felt her free hand clasp his own, reversing the gesture he had extended to her only moments before. Again, he was struck by just how warm and comforting her hands felt, especially now that they had enveloped his own. And instead of reminding him of all the flesh radiating out from the Master into the Corridor and the rest of the Cathedral vault, the touch of her hands did the exact opposite. He found himself becoming absorbed only with thoughts of her. It suddenly felt easier to put aside those terrible thoughts.

'Thanks,' he said. 'I needed that.'

'I don't know what it is you went through,' she said, 'but maybe I don't need to know. Not unless and until you're ready and want to let me in. But I want you to know that regardless of what you decide, I'm here for you.'

Albert looked up from her hands to her face and found himself getting lost in her eyes. He couldn't remember ever being this near to her before for more than a brief second or two. It would be so easy. Whether or not it had been her intention, they were so very close to each other right at that moment. Their hands were already joined, their legs almost touching. All he had to do was lean in…

But he couldn't. He had come back for closure. Not to start something new. To do so would be selfish. Unfair for her. And she knew it. Yet why was this damned woman holding his gaze like that? Since when had her will and her presence so easily overwhelmed his own?

Albert had always taken the lead and the initiative with past relationships and flings. That had been his personality. But now, staring into her bright almond eyes, he found his resolve slowly crumbling. And the most infuriating thing of all was that she wasn't even doing anything. She was just sitting there, looking back at him, waiting…

He had to break contact before he lost what remained of his will to stop it… He pulled his hand gently but firmly away from hers and turned away. 'I know,' he said in response to her offer of support. 'But some things… some things I don't_ want _to remember. Ever.'

'Then we'll start from there,' she persisted. 'But you can't go back out onto the surface with that fatalistic attitude of yours.'

'Why not?' he asked stubbornly, without looking back at her.

'Because _that's _what's going to get you killed.'

'The only important thing,' he retorted, 'is that the Vault is free of the super mutant threat. That's all that matters.'

'That is _not _all that matters,' she argued firmly.

'Look, I'm doing this for you,' he said, growing irritable at her persistence. Now that he had broken eye contact, it was easier to retreat back in on himself and shut her out. 'I'm doing this for _all _of you. Why can't you just let me do it _my _way and be happy I'm even out there in the first place?' He snatched angrily at the bottle of whisky and took a long gulp, grimacing as the harsh liquid burned its way down his gullet.

'And what way is that?' she challenged. 'What did you mean when you said you came back for "closure"?'

'I came back to officially and permanently hand over the reigns of the Exodus to you and Theresa. And to warn you that if I or Natalia or Alex _don't _make it back soon, you need to get out of the Vault quickly. _Before _the super mutants find this place. Trust me when I say you don't…' A brief flashing image of the Corridor and the Master filled his mind. 'You don't want to get caught by them.'

'If you want to make sure that doesn't happen,' said Pat, 'then you'd better be damn sure you come back.'

'You can'timpose that kind of an expectation on me!' Albert almost yelled in vexation. This was _exactly _what he had _not _wanted to happen. Why wouldn't she just let him cut ties so he could do his job without having to worry about them anymore? Why couldn't she just do the smart thing for herself and the rest of the vault dwellers?

'I can and I will!' she said, raising her voice for the first time. If Albert hadn't been so worked up, he would have realized that she had been deliberately goading him – using the very same tactics he had used on occasion in his own past negotiations. 'You'd _better _make it back alive, Albert, because I'm going to be sitting here and waiting for you to come back safely! And if every super mutant up on the surface comes crashing through the outer Vault door and if all the other vault dwellers run off, I will stick my ass to this sofa until you come back and get me!'

'AGH!' Albert screamed his frustration, losing all composure in the process. He leapt to his feet, clenching his fists in exasperation. For the first time since he could remember, Albert was at a complete loss of words. 'Why must—I came back t—you—Why… are you making this so fucking difficult?! Don't you realize I'm doing this for you?! For all of you?! I can't…' his outburst fizzled almost as quickly as it had emerged, his voice breaking at the sudden revelation. 'I can't… let you become one of them! I can't…' He sank to his bed and collapsed his face into his hands.

He sat like that for several long black moments, as the memories of the Corridor came washing back over him making him feel dirty and damned all over again. In his mind, the other vault dwellers had joined the ranks of all the other dead people who had become fused into the Corridor – a part of the Master; a part of the super mutant horde; a part of that damned Unity. At the head of the crowd stood Pat. The flesh from the Corridor swam around her, pulling her into its twisting ravenous embrace. Albert vaguely realized tears had sprung to his eyes but he didn't care anymore. He could hold in the horror for only so long before it finally came bursting at the seams.

But in that moment he felt those warm comforting hands on his head, gently stroking his hair. They pulled him slowly but forcefully forward until he found his head resting against her stomach. Pat stood before him, softly cradling his head against her body like she would a distraught child. As she had expected, the physical connection that now joined them was finally what calmed him down. He had needed to figure out that he wasn't and shouldn't be alone in all of this. And now he knew. He had heard her speak the words and now he had physical proof that it was real.

When he finally pulled back and looked up at her after what seemed like ages, all frustration and anxiety had drained out of him. Her face had also lost whatever brief anger it had held and was now brimming with fondness towards him. She leaned over him and planted a light kiss on his forehead.

'You don't have to be alone in this,' she said. 'We're all here, hoping and praying for your success. Think about that, _believe _that, the next time you go out there. And when you finally find that mutant base, don't just fight for the safety of the Vault. Fight for the people in it who care about you. And fight to stay alive, because we're all going to be here waiting for you to come back to us.'

Even as Albert found himself agreeing with Pat, a small part of him marveled at just how effective she had been in drawing him out of the shell he had been constructing around himself. Had she _always _had such a strong and powerful personality or had she only developed that recently? Either way, he know felt sure that she was the ideal person to lead the Exodus. In a way, he felt proud. Yes, he could see himself fighting to stay alive for her. And the point she had surreptitiously driven into his skull was, at the end of all things, psychologically logical. Having something… someone… to fight for, by necessity, lifted him from his fatalism and despair. His demons were still there, lurking beneath the surface, still not yet fully exorcized, but that didn't matter so much anymore. He now had a reason to see his task through to the end that was more powerful than the memory of what FEV mutation could do to people.

He gazed up at her again with a new sense of affection towards her. 'Pat,' he said, 'would you mind if I kissed you?' It was an uncharacteristic and even awkward question coming from his mouth, he realized, yet in that moment, it felt perfectly natural.

She gave him an irresistible smile, then pushed him back lightly towards the bed as she leaned forward even more, allowing their lips to meet for the first time.


	33. Chapter 32: The Interview

Hello happy readers! So... I've been playing New Vegas for the first time and I just yesterday I came across the Brotherhood and realized something about them that seems... incongruous with how I've been writing about them in this novelization. Just in case some of you have never played Fallout: New Vegas and don't want what might be considered a minor spoiler, I'll leave my comments on that till the end of this chapter.

I did make one minor change compared to the last chapter. Initially, the diversionary task force was section-sized. I have 'upgraded' it to platoon size just because we're talking a large number of super mutants here. Ten or so paladins, no matter how well trained, just ain't gonna cut it.

**Chapter Thirty-Two: The Interview**

Two days after Albert's arrival back at Vault-13, Alex and Erwin crouched atop a wooded hillock, unmoving, their ears perked and their eyes peeled for any movement. This close to the super mutants' military base, the hills had already started to climb and roll and the foliage had begun to grow denser. It was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it had given their new staging area a natural camouflage, nestled as it was in a particularly heavily forested dell. On the other, it also made it more difficult to detect any potential intruders.

Alex and Erwin were the newcomers to field missions, and also the least experienced. Yet they had proven themselves to be not only the most capable rising knights among all the other initiates but also the best sharpshooters. The decision to send them out had not been an easy one. The situations that the infiltration and diversionary teams would enter were deemed too dangerous for new soldiers; the more experienced soldiers didn't want to have too look out for the greener ones but they also needed everyone present to be a fully-trained, experienced asset when the bullets started flying. Yet at the same time, the Elders hadn't wanted the bunker to be manned mainly by recruits either, just in case the super mutants actually did decide to make a fullscale attack of their own. So, in order to retain a strong force of paladins for defence, the Elders had instead assigned their best newly promoted knights to this relatively more mundane task. Alex knew they were using him towards their own ends, but he wasn't exactly complaining. This was still a mission of vital importance to both the Brotherhood and the vault dwellers. It was just _safer_ as well. Alex could live with that.

'Anything?' Erwin asked.

Alex shook his head. 'Must have just been a wild animal. But keep your eyes peeled.'

'Maybe we should set some of the mines. Y'know, create a perimeter. Just in case.'

'But if something else triggers those mines, it'd be heard for miles around and we'd lose this position. No one can know we're here. Not until the rest get here, at least.'

The two friends finished their patrol route and then returned to the camp where six other knights, two other paladins (including Jennifer), and the leader of their scouting team – a paladin named Gunther – had already done most of the digging work with the trenches since earlier that morning when they had first arrived. It was impossible to create enough shelter to house and protect both teams that would arrive in the following two or three more days. Besides, the purpose of this location wasn't to serve as a fort but merely as a rendezvous and temporary resupply point. To that end, it was more important that the place remain unnoticed by possible enemy patrols, which meant keeping its visible footprint as small as possible. The more trenches and underground bunkers they dug, the more likely a passing enemy patrol might stumble onto them.

'Perimeter's clear,' said Alex. 'Or at least as clear as can be in _this_ jungle.'

'Set a sentry, one every three hours,' said Gunther to Jennifer.

'And then what?' asked Erwin.

'Then we wait,' said Gunther.

* * *

><p>For the fourth time, Albert found himself at the Vault's security door on the main lobby level, preparing yet again to leave. It seemed that each time he had left, he had grown more reluctant. The burdens had been less pressing, but the emotional reluctance had grown stronger. And now this time was the worst of all because, contrary to his original intentions, he now had a stronger reason than ever to make it back.<p>

Of course, it wasn't as if others hadn't mattered the previous times he had left. Theresa was still a good friend of his. He still personally knew and cared about many of the members of the Exodus. Then, of course, there were his parents who, even though they had never been that close to him, were nevertheless tied by blood. So, yes, there had always been good reason to want to return but could there ever be a bond as strong, as irrational, and as infuriatingly single-minded as emotional and physical mutual attraction?

They sat together on one of the sofas in the main lobby, three hours earlier than the planned departure time. The crowds would come soon enough and then they wouldn't have time to talk. It would be all last minute farewells and then that would be it. And Albert couldn't avoid that this time. Not again. Those who cared about him deserved that much. He had left them in the lurch last time. That was one time too many.

But for now, at least, he and Pat had some time to themselves. They sat staring absently across the span of the lobby to the security door leading to the airlock.

'Didn't think it'd be this much harder to see you go this time,' Pat mused, leaning her head on his shoulder.

'This is your fault. You realize that,' he answered, somewhat facetiously.

'It was a necessary evil,' she said.

'You did _not _just call me evil,' he protested. She chuckled. He grew serious. 'You have all the instructions in case none of us return in a month?'

Pat's smile faded. 'I do. But let's not talk about that now.'

'Alright,' he conceded. He brought his face close to the top of her head, allowing his fingers to run through her clean, smooth hair. He breathed in her scent, knowing he would never smell anything like it out there in the wasteland, at least not unless someone was able to find a stash of well-preserved pre-War hair products. He sighed wistfully. 'Now I'm going to have to keep myself from being distracted by thoughts of you when I'm out there,' he said.

'It's better than being distracted by more morbid thoughts,' she countered.

'I guess you're right,' he admitted somewhat reluctantly.

'Damn right,' she said playfully. Then her smile faded. 'Albert, what do you want, when all of this is done?'

'What do I _want_?' he sounded surprised. 'I want an end to all this fighting and death! I want to hang up my gun and my armor and never have to worry about using them ever again. I want to come back here and hold you like I'm doing now, and just stay this way forever.'

'So you don't want to go to the surface with the rest of the Exodus? Didn't that use to mean the world to you?'

Albert gave a small laugh at how serious she had suddenly become. 'Is this an interrogation?' he joked

'Call it an interview.'

Albert shook his head. 'Well first it was that. Then it was ambivalence. Now it's… reluctance. I mean, I know we'll _all_ have to move out someday. But that won't be for several more generations. Even if the Exodus takes half of what the Vault has, what remains will still be enough to house whomever's left for maybe a hundred years or more.'

'No more far-reaching visions about the future of the outside world?'

'The outside world… the _wasteland_…' He exhaled heavily again. 'I know the future's out there and humanity needs to grasp it by the horns in order to survive. But me, personally… I'm done with it. I'll be happy if I never have to see it again.'

She held him even more tightly at those words. 'That's how I feel as well,' she said happily.

'I know,' he said. 'You're the only one to have _always _felt that way. Well… you and the Overseer and the other leaders have always felt that way. But they've got something to lose if everyone moves out.'

'Maybe _you _can be the next Overseer. One who'll be more willing to listen to different opinions.'

Albert laughed out loud and shook his head. 'No more leading for me after this. I just want to fade away into obscurity. _You _on the other hand…'

'How about a joint Overseership?'

Albert laughed again. 'We'd better stop talking about taking over the Overseer's position. That's the last thing he needs to hear before I set out again.'

* * *

><p>Erwin sat uncomfortably in the apex of three large branches, more than ten feet up one of the larger trees. It was as close to a guard tower as they could manage without drastically altering the environment, though the comfort level left a lot to be desired. He had already been sitting up there for over an hour and his rearn end had gone numb, even with the padding provided by his combat armor. He lifted the night vision binoculars to his eyes again and scanned the surroundings for the umpteenth time.<p>

He was about to conclude once again that everything was as it should be when a brief flash of movement caught his eyes. He brought the goggles back up and focused on a position on the other side of a small outcropping from their camp.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had heard the descriptions Albert and Natalia had provided about some of those mutated things that had resided beneath the Cathedral to the south. There were those things Albert had called floaters, and then there was that centaur thing… and, if Albert was right, there were worse things that he hadn't even wanted to talk about.

Now, staring at the slimy-looking creature snaking its way along the bottom of the small valley, Erwin felt sure he was looking at a floater. It was a disgusting creature alright. There was no doubt about that. It was still too far away for Erwin to detect the grotesque noises it was reputed to make, but already he could imagine it. The orifice at the top of its floating sac pulsated in a bizarre and obscene manner. Erwin scanned the surrounding area again but saw no sign of any other creature like it or any super mutant for that matter.

Noting the position of the creature as it lazily slid down the valley, Erwin brought out his handheld radioset and contacted Gunther in the small bunker below.

* * *

><p>In the meantime, while Erwin had only just noticed the snakelike object moving silently in the adjacent dale, Alex and Jennifer sat quietly near their shell scrapes.<p>

'This size disparity thing is really getting old,' Alex complained. Jennifer, once again in her power armor, dwarfed him completely. 'I feel like I'm a six-year-old talking to my aunt.'

'You fuck your aunt much?' she joked.

Alex laughed quietly. 'Only the good-looking one.'

Jennifer was aghast. 'Alex! That's _terrible_!' She slapped him on one of his padded shoulders, almost forgetting how much stronger she was in her T-51b.

Alex jerked forward from the blow. '_Ow_!' He yelped, too loudly for comfort.

'Sorry,' she said hastily.

'That's going to leave a bruise.'

'Well you totally deserve it. You're an asshole, you know that? You don't joke about shit like that.'

'Well, it's not like I actually _have _an aunt. I was just making it up. Besides, you're the one who brought it up.'

'That comes from spending too much time around _you_. Sometimes I forget what I see in you.'

'Well, let me remind you, then. I'm handsome. I'm suave. I'm the most accomplished Brotherhood knight to date. _And _I completed my training in three weeks instead of three months.'

'And you're cocky as hell.'

'Hey, it's gotten me this far. It also makes me _great _with the ladies.'

'You'd better be great with only _one _of the ladies. Or I'll make sure I dislocate your shoulder the next time.'

'If you recall, the last time we actually tussled during the field test, _you _got a faceful of mud… not to mention a close-call with the disciplinary committee for nearly killing their star student.'

'That was a cheap shot! I already had you in my sights. Your ass would totally have been mine if—'

'All's fair in love and war, my dear.'

'So's a dislocated shoulder.'

They heard the muted crackle of static coming from the bunker as Erwin's call came in over the radio. They got up and neared the small command post so that they could hear the transmission.

'This is Nightsight. Hostile spotted,' Erwin reported. 'Two-o'clock. Three hundred feet. Possibly a "floater"-type mutant. Currently unaware of our presence. No sign of any other hostiles. Over.'

Gunther rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'We can't have it stumbling across our paths by mistake. I want you to take it out. Quietly. Over'

'It doesn't seem to be heading in this direction, sir,' said Erwin. 'It might just pass us by. Over'

'"Might" is not a word you are allowed to use in military assessments, soldier,' Gunther said gruffly. 'We can't take that chance. Use that laser rifle of yours and carve a large hole into its bloated floating sac. Over.'

'Sir, with all respect, that may not be wise,' said Alex from the entrance.

'And why is that?' Gunther asked, sounding none too pleased at having had his authority questioned.

'If there are any super mutants nearby, they'll notice if one of their kind doesn't make it back.'

'That thing isn't sentient,' Gunther argued. 'It has no way to communicate even _if _there are other mutant forces nearby. And if we lose track of it now, the next time it decides to wander into our camp, _we'll _be the ones taken by surprise.'

'Sir, I strongly believe this is a mistake. It's more important that we try to remain as invisible as possible until the rest arrive. If we lose this position before the rest make it here, we may lose everything.'

'And _I _strongly believe that you're stepping far out of line, _journeyman knight _Alex. I am well aware of the potential consequences should the mutants take this position before the rest arrive. If we let that floater out of our sight and it decides to do a U-turn at some point, then that's exactly what's going to happen.' He hit the transmit button on the radioset. 'This is Hammerhead. You have your orders. Carry them out.'

Alex gritted his teeth but said nothing more.

'Are you crazy, questioning a superior officer like that?' Jennifer berated Alex quietly as they waited out of earshot of Gunther.

'He's an ass,' Alex muttered. 'We're drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves. That floater might just pass us by without ever knowing we're here and now—'

'Or he may be right and the thing might decide to circle back while it's in our blindspot. Then we'd really be screwed.'

They heard the high pitched whine of the laser as a short blast cut through the night air. It wasn't loud enough to carry very far, but to Alex it was still too loud for comfort. A few seconds later, Erwin's voice came over the radio again.

'Nightsight. Hostile eliminated. Over,' he said confidently.

'There,' Gunther said to Alex with an air of finality in his voice. 'Nothing to it. Now, if you don't want me to report your insubordination to your superior when we make it back to the fortress, you will go and retrieve the body. Perhaps it was a mistake to bring you out into the field after all, despite your recommendations. You clearly still have a lot to learn about following orders.'

Alex ground his teeth together again in silence and left with a second handset so Erwin could direct him to the body. He considered taking his plasma rifle along but thought better of it. In case he needed to defend himself, there was no point using two different weapons. Any semi-intelligent being with half a brain would be able to tell there were at least two armed people up and about. So instead, Alex took his Brotherhood-issued laser rifle instead, leaving the plasma rifle with his pack.

They had gotten lucky. Gunther just didn't want to admit it.

'It's two hundred feet at your eleven. Over,' he heard Erwin say over the other handset.'

Alex headed toward the body, receiving updates from Erwin on the exact location of the corpse once he was in its vicinity. He located it without much difficulty.

Even in the dark, the thing looked disgusting. Alex was about to reach for the limp intestine-like tail of the creature when there came from just around the corner the most unexpected yet alarming sound he had ever expected to hear out there: a wild, ravenous, blood-curdling howl that chilled him to the bone. The protracted silence was abruptly and rudely broken and all pretense of stealth fled the scene.

'Falcon, this is Hammerhead. What the hell just happened?!'

'Like I said, sir,' Alex replied, glancing frantically around for the source of the noise. 'The floater may not have been alone. Instructions. Over?'

'Find it and kill it before it alerts half the valley. Over.'

'_It _may not be alone. Over,' said Alex as he advanced from cover to cover, trying to figure out the exact location of the source of that howling.

'I don't care. If it's making that much noise, it won't matter. Take it out. Now!'

'I can't see it. Over.'

'What do you mean, you can't see it? It _spotted_ you, didn't it?'

'I believe it… _smelled _me. Over.'

As he gave his report over the radio, Alex rounded the next corner and froze. There it was: a canine and a human head attached by impossibly long necks to a large bear-sized fleshy body with six human arms for legs. It was a centaur.

Alex raised his own rifle and was about to take the shot when he spotted movement coming from further behind the monstrous mutated creature. It was dark and he could only make out their silhouettes, but by the size of them, Alex was sure he had just found the rest of the super mutant patrol.

For a long moment, on human and three super mutants stared at each other in surprise. Then Alex was running as two miniguns and a laser rifle tore up the night behind him.

'Report! What's your status?' came Gunther's voice over the radio.

'I've got a mutant patrol on my ass, that's what!' Alex shot back as he ran for his life, firing random bursts from his laser rifle as he did so.

'Roger. We're coming after you!' said Gunther.

Alex paused behind the insignificant shelter of a tree trunk to give him enough time to lob a fragmentation grenade behind gave him a brief respite; enough to start running again.

'Negative!' he said breathlessly. 'Right now, to them, there's just one lone sniper. It needs to stay that way. I'm leading them away from the camp.'

'No! Falcon, your orders are to take shelter as best as you can so we can catch up with you and hit those sons-of-bitches in their big green asses!'

'Don't be stupid,' Alex said simply, then thumbed off the switch on his radio before hurling it off into the trees. If the mutants found it on him, they'd figure out he wasn't alone.

* * *

><p>Over at the camp, Jennifer had lowered her helmet over her head and engaged the seals, ready to give chase.<p>

'Hold, Jennifer,' said Gunther, his voice strangely passive compared to the heated delivery he had given to Alex earlier.

'He's got multiple hostiles on his tail. We've _got _to move now!' she protested urgently, surprised by her commander's sudden seeming inaction.

'Alex is right,' Gunther said gravely. 'If we start a fight now, we'll lose this position. If even one of the mutants gets away and reports our presence, it'll be all over.

'Dammit! We can't let him go alone!' Jennifer protested, turning towards the sound of gunfire, half-prepared to disobey the command of her superior.

'No,' said Gunther, holding her arm. 'The mutants need to think there's just one of us so they won't come looking for this camp. Alex is fast and capable. There's a good chance he'll lose them and be able to circle back here in a few hours.'

Jennifer gave an exclamation of frustration. Then her voice dropped, losing its steam as she came to accept both Gunther and Alex's rationale. 'All this was your call, sir,' she said quietly, leaving the rest of the accusation unspoken.

'I know,' Gunther replied just as quietly, acknowledging the mistake he had made.

They heard sporadic blasts of energy from Alex's laser rifle, first nearby, then growing increasingly distant. Strangely enough, the enemy fire began to grow less frequent as it moved intot he distance, and it was only when the forest erupted with multiple howls, like the one they had heard earlier, that they understood why – the super mutants were letting their centaurs do the attacking.

* * *

><p>While the rest were worriedly and reluctantly holding their ground and remaining hidden, Alex was sprinting through the forest. He was a lot faster than the the super mutants and the distance between himself and them was growing. If he kept this up, he would surely lose them so long as he didn't get hit by a stray shot. But when he heard the centaurs' howls, he knew it was over. Even in the darkness he could see over half a dozen enormous spidery bodies swarming towards him, cutting off his planned retreat from the super mutants behind him. He raised the laser rifle and carved a beam through both heads (dog and human) of the first centaur. A second one burst through the undergrowth and received the same treatment.<p>

Three more arrived, scuttling across the forest floor on their human arm-legs. Too close to use the rifle, Alex tossed the weapon aside and, instead, pulled out his ripper vibroblade – a fusion-powered knife with a heavy-duty serrated chainblade that spun around the edges of the blade.

His training kicking in, Alex leapt forward and dug the blade into the wolf-like head of the nearest centaur. The chainblade carved easily into the nasal gap in the dog-head's skull, ripping up whatever soft tissue and brain matter was present and splattering Alex's transparent helmet visor and chestplate with blood. The neighboring human head on the same centaur's body wailed in the pain it shared with the dog-head. As its mouth opened, Alex responded by turning the blade and driving the whirring chain in between its teeth, slicing off part of its top half in a messy spray of blood and bone.

One of the two remaining centaurs had gotten near enough by that point to leap towards Alex like a jumping spider. Alex fell under the weight, but managed to position the ripper just in time. The heavy centaur fell directly onto the chainblade. Both its head flailed wildly as its chest was ripped apart, spraying Alex with its dark blood and guts.

With a cry of anger and desperation, Alex pushed with all his strength, forcing the dying, spasming body off to the side. But his distraction was all the other remaining centaur needed. Perhaps smarter than the rest, as this centaur leapt at Alex, it reached out its arm-legs, the hands (which also functioned as its feet), grabbing hold of Alex's wrists and ankles and surprising him by the strength of its grip. Pinned to the ground, Alex could do nothing as the centaur's dog head lanced forward, trying to crush his helmet in its jaws.

Struggle as he might, Alex could not get his wrists or ankles free and he was just about to resign himself to the fact that the visor on his helmet was starting to crack, when he heard a guttural command issued. In response, the wolf-like jaws retracted.

Through the cracked visor, Alex saw the super mutant that had given the command. It was carrying its six-barreled chaingun in one hand. The mutant took one large step towards him, then swung the six barrels down towards Alex's head. Alex caught the massive blur before the weapon connected with his helmet, shattering the glass completely and turning his vision black.

* * *

><p>While Alex was desperately trying to lead the mutant patrol away from the rest of his team, the larger dual-force of Brotherhood soldiers were making their way north towards the forward staging area under the cover of night. The two strike teams had temporarily formed into one, under the command of Rhombus himself. While three paladins took point, the rest had adopted a staggered formation, spaced far enough apart to mitigate the lethality of possible area-effect weapons that might be used against them but close enough that they were still able to keep track of one another. Except for occasional commands, mostly given through hand gestures anyway, there was no communication. Everyone had his or her ears pricked for the sound of enemy patrols.<p>

So far, the pointmen had done spectacular jobs mapping out a path for them that took them out of the way of the three mutant patrols they had spotted over the past five-and-a-half days. All those enemy patrols had been heading south and east, further substantiating Tycho's hunch that they were bolstering the growing army in Necropolis.

That had been one of the things Natalia and Tycho had talked about before leaving the Brotherhood bunker almost a week ago, but it had hardly been the only topic. Following the northbound route of the old, worn out road, while at the same time keeping her eye on both the closest soldier in front of her and the other one on the opposite side of the road, Natalia allowed her mind to drift back to several days before.

Back in the bunker, after they had each brought the other up to speed, the conversation had then taken a surprising turn. Tycho had been the one to initiate it, asking her about her plans after the military base was destroyed. Of course, there was always the possibility that the mission could fail, but their conversation had deliberately steered clear of the potential negative outcome. So instead, they had talked to each other _as if _their final task would meet with resounding success.

Tycho had said that he would one day like to travel back east, if only to revisit those he had not seen in months ever since he had first traveled west to Junktown. But that would not be for several months more. He still had no plans to settle anywhere. To Natalia, the lack of a plan suited her perfectly. She knew that she would not willingly go back to the Vault. Maybe just to say goodbye to Theresa and what few other friends she had made over the years, but there was nothing there for her anymore. Her life now belonged on the surface with Tycho for as long as they could make things last. And wandering through the wasteland, deliberately (if temporarily) foregoing the notion of settling down, suited her just fine.

The only stop she intended to make once this was all over was to pay a visit to her recently acquired green-haired friend, Katja, down south in the Boneyard. Tycho had gotten a good laugh when Natalia had told him she was still honor-bound to go on a raid with the former Adytum scav for cosmetic products.

Fondly recalling the memory of their conversation (and more), Natalia turned behind her to take another look at the person who had rapidly become the most important man in her life. Tycho was thirty feet behind her, still dressed in his leather armor and trench coat. His gas mask was off, however, and, in the moonlight, Natalia caught a glimpse of his warm smile. The memories were still fresh and she knew he too was reliving the memory of that last night they had spent together in the Brotherhood bunker five days ago, tucked away in the back of an unused storage room on the third floor.

It had, of course, included a long overdue release of pent-up sexual frustrations – a release made all the more explosive by the knowledge that they had engaged in an act that had likely transgressed at least half a dozen Brotherhood regulations about sexual conduct. But it had been more than that. For the longest time, they had just talked – talked about their plans (or lack thereof) for settling down, about the prospects of survival for the post-nuclear world (once the mutant threat was removed, of course), and even about mundane things like what they did for fun or, as was more often the case, what they would _like _to do for fun given the time, resources, and opportunity. And then, for just as long a duration, they had just lain silently together on the floor atop a thin, brown, military-issued blanket, counting the hours until they would set off for the last leg of their journey.

If anything at all, it was the conversation and the ensuing comfortable silence that finally suggested to Natalia that what they shared was rooted in more than just physical attraction. With the intensity their lives had taken over the past few months, Natalia had begun to worry that the only thing that kept them together was physical intimacy. At least now that no longer seemed to be the only important thing. She only hoped there would be more opportunities to explore other dimensions of their relationship in the future.

Natalia was so caught up in her thoughts that when the Brotherhood soldiers ahead of her pulled to a stop, she ended taking four more steps before realizing something was amiss. With her superior night vision, she noticed the three section leaders concentrating on some kind of transmission they were receiving through their earpieces from the platoon signaler (the only one in the platoon with the long-range radio set). Having his own short-range communicator, Tycho had listened in on the broadcast and closed the distance between them so he could relay the information to her.

'We need to double-time it the rest of the way,' he told her.

'What's going on?' she whispered back.

'It's the forward observation team,' he replied. 'They've been hit.'

* * *

><p>Albert had been moving quickly. He had reached the (old) staging area only to be told by the two soldiers manning the seriously stripped down outpost that a lot had happened since his departure from the fortress at Lost Hills; Tycho had returned, the military base had been located, and everyone involved in the operation had moved north to a new, closer staging area. Without a moment's hesitation or rest, Albert and Dogmeat had turned north, hoping to catch up with the rest before they actually stormed the base or do whatever it was they had planned.<p>

And yet now, as he neared the second, newer staging area, he was left with a sense of déjà vu; this one was just as deserted as the last. Only Erwin, a junior paladin, and another knight had been left to guard the supplies that were already there. As surprised as he was to see Erwin – who had been no more than a senior initiate the last time he had met him – now out in the field in full combat gear, Albert was even more surprised, not to mention distraught, to hear that Alex had been taken captive.

'It was my fault,' Erwin said forlornly. 'I took the shot that started the whole mess.'

'You were following orders,' Albert said in attempt to placate the guilt-stricken young man. 'But I _do _need to get moving if I want to catch up with Natalia and the rest when they try to rescue Alex.'

Erwin glanced down at the timepiece attached to his wrist 'They're probably only just reaching Site-D by now. It'll be awhile before they can set up their defences and a while more until the infiltration team reaches the base.'

'What's Site-D?'

'That's where the diversionary attack will take place. It's at an old exposition center in Mariposa. Very hilly and wooded, with enough of a built-up area to fortify their position. The base is about a half-hour northwest of that.'

'Well, then I should be off.'

'There _was _something Alex… had wanted to give you when you arrived. I'm sure he would want you to have it before you left. It's something he was working on for quite awhile while we were still back at the fortress.'

'What is it?'

Erwin brought Albert into the dugout firepit that had temporarily functioned as Gunther's command bunker for a time but that had now become reappropriated as a storehouse. Inside, there were stockpiles of ammunition, rations, and medical supplies. But standing prominently in the corner, towering above everything else was a gleaming T-51b power armor suit. And its internal framework was just Albert's size.

Albert was stunned. _This _was what Alex had been working on for him? He could barely believe it even though it stood there before him in all its imposing glory.

'Where did he even _get _this?' he said in amazement.

'This one wasn't up to specs by Brotherhood standards. The eye-piece had to be re-soldered in place and the brass decided it didn't look as pretty as it needed to be for inspection. They left it unfinished, but one of the knights took a liking to Alex and allowed him to tinker with it. Turns out not only did he finish the rest of it but he got it in full working order too. He wanted it to be surprise for you. I think… I think he wanted to prove to you he had made the most of his time while you and Natalia were headed south and Tycho was up north.'

'He's more than proved it,' said Albert, running his hands over the smooth, shiny metal plates of the suit of armor. 'Well, help me into this thing. I'm guessing we're going to need all the help we can get to break him out.'

Erwin looked slightly uncomfortable. 'Training to use a T-51b usually takes an entire day just to learn how to get in and out of it, and then another week to become fully adjusted to how it moves.'

'Well, I'm not getting out of this suit until the mission's done, so you don't have to worry about that. And as for everything else, well, I'll just have to pick it up as I go along. Good thing I'm a fast learner. Now help me in.'

While Erwin gave Albert a rapid breakdown of all the most basic pointers he would need to know to operate the T-51b, the other junior paladin helped secure Albert into the internal frame of the suit.

It took twenty minutes to get Albert into the suit which, for a rookie was actually a very respectable time, even _with _assistance. When he was finally secured into the suit, Albert marveled at just how small everything else around him suddenly looked. He tried to reach for his assault rifle, ended up underestimating the added reach of his armor, and knocked the rifle clean off its stand and twenty feet out of the doorway.

'You should probably know,' said the junior paladin, 'that that suit also augments your strength. You could probably punch a hole into a brick wall without suffering any damage to yourself.'

'Just like a super mutant,' Albert mused.

'And here's something better,' said Erwin, '_also _courtesy of Alex.' He reached for one of the storage boxes and producing what looked like an exoskeletal black glove that was even larger than the gauntlets on the T-51b suit. He fitted the frame of the black glove over Albert's left gauntlet, plugged a small energy pack into its base, and pointed to what looked like a safety switch. 'This here's a power fist,' he explained. 'We call it the "Big Frigger". If you think punching holes through walls is impressive, wait till you try that out on a mutant head.'

'Alex thought of everything, didn't he?' Albert said out loud.

'Everything except the stupidity of human leadership,' said Erwin.

'That's tantamount to treason,' the junior paladin warned. 'Paladin Gunther made a judgment call given the limited information we had at our disposal.'

'And yet Paladin Gunther is now freely marching with Head Paladin Rhombus and the rest of the squad while Alex suffers the consequences,' Erwin countered. 'For Gunther's sake, Alex _better _still be alive.' Erwin turned to Albert. 'Let me come along,' he said in a tone that made it sound more like a statement than a request. 'I owe it to Alex. I was the one responsible for firing the first shot. I should be there to help break him out.'

'We had direct orders to man this station,' the junior paladin protested. 'Alex himself was the one who was so obsessed about keeping this position secure and hidden from the mutants. What happens if another patrol heads this way?'

'If that happens, I don't think it will make a difference anymore,' Albert observed. 'If this mission fails, my people and I will all be dead. And even if your head paladin and his squad live through this and make it back here to resupply, they'd have lost the element of surprise. This mission _has _to succeed, and I'm prepared to take all the help I can get, with or without the approval of the Brotherhood Elders.' Albert turned back to face Alex. 'But if you do this,' he pointed out, 'you _would_ be disobeying a direct order. Even if we make it out of this alive, you could lose everything at the Brotherhood.'

'They'll strip you of your rank and armor and weapons,' said the junior paladin. 'They may even expel you.'

'If I do nothing, I'd already have lost what matters,' Erwin retorted.

'That's good enough for me,' said Albert.

'I _will _be forced to report this when this is all over, you know that, right?' the junior paladin warned.

'Then you'd better hope we come back alive and victorious, or it won't matter,' said Erwin before grabbing his own pack and following Albert.

* * *

><p>When the hood came off, Alex found himself seated on a metal chair in the middle of a brightly lit room. Slowly, as his eyes grew accustomed to the glare, he made out humanoid figures in the room. All of them were at least three feet taller than the average man and <em>way <em>larger in sheer bulk.

'The blood work's gone through, Lieutenant,' said one of the mutants in a low rumbling voice.

The super mutant seated on the desk moved. Now that Alex's vision had come into focus, he realized just how big this mutant was, even by super mutant standards. He stood up to his full height, revealing that he was more than half a foot taller than the two super mutant guards flanking him. This mutant had bright brass shoulder plates, some kind of metal pack attached to his back, and a large spherical eye piece strapped over where his right eye should have been. Staring up at the giant among giants, Alex felt exceedingly vulnerable and small. He had no doubt that this was none other than the Lieutenant of the super mutant armies that he kept hearing about. If ever intimidation could be incarnated into a single being, Alex felt sure this super mutant was it.

'And the results?' the Lieutenant asked the first mutant who had spoken earlier. His voice was low, like that of the first mutant, but it also held a strange and creepy kind of mirth to it that only made Alex even more uneasy. He was all smiles and politeness. Yet, if anything, his obvious confidence and seemingly good humor unsettled Alex even more. His crisp and polished diction only made him seem even more dangerous. Dumb mutants were bad enough. This one was apparently well-versed and educated.

'Positive,' said the first mutant, referring to the blood tests.

The Lieutenant grinned (almost evilly, Alex thought to himself). 'Oh, this is excellent,' he said, sounding pleased. He fixed Alex with his one good eye. 'You know,' he said, 'I actually doubted my officers when they said they'd captured a prime normal. It is _so _nice to see you.'

'What do you want with me?' Alex said, trying to sound braver than he felt.

'Why, for you to become one of us, of course,' the Lieutenant replied. 'I can't have a perfectly good prime normal and not make it one of the Chosen Ones, now can I? _After_… you tell me where your Vault is.'

With those words, the wooziness Alex had been feeling ever since he had been knocked unconscious (and then presumably drugged all the way to this installation) cleared in an instant. In a rush of memories, Alex recalled everything Albert had said in his written report to the Brotherhood leaders, _especially _about why the Master had been so interested in Vault-13.

And with that thought, Alex realized he was in even more trouble than he had initially surmised. On the one hand, perhaps the only reason he was still alive was because the mutants had identified him as both a relatively radiation-free normal and, unfortunately, as one of the vault dwellers from Vault-13. On the other, this now meant that they would be paying extra special attention to him. He only hoped Jennifer and Erwin and Gunther and the rest had met with the Natalia and Tycho and the others already and were, at that moment, hard at work trying to break him out. If so, he needed to buy them time. He needed to stall.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' he said, knowing as he said it that it didn't even sound convincing.

'Please,' said the Lieutenant dismissively. 'Your uniquely low radiation count puts you in a minority of people living in the wasteland. From there, it was a simple matter matching your appearance with the reports that have been circling through the wasteland about you vault dwellers. Now, we don't _really _have to do this the hard way, do we?'

Alex considered persisting with the denial but quickly thought better of it. 'I may be willing to give you what you want,' he said instead, 'but on one condition.'

'Condition?' the Lieutenant sounded amused. 'How delightful. Go ahead, amuse me with your… condition.'

'I need to know what's going to become of the information I give you. I want to be able to ask you some questions first.'

'Why certainly, my dear human,' the Lieutenant replied immediately, surprising Alex by his alacrity. 'I'm curious just to see what you'll ask.'

'You can start by telling me where I am. The last thing I remembered, I was fighting of a pack of rabid half-dog, half-human mutants.'

'My dear human,' the Lieutenant said patronizingly, 'this is the great procreator! Here we'll make others of the master race and insure the Unity. Considering the amount of trouble you and your friends have been making for us recently, you must surely be familiar with at least some of it. It's all quite glorious, I assure you.'

'All I know about this "Unity" is what those crazed Children of the Cathedral spout in their churches. Which isn't much. Nothing substantial at any rate.'

'It is _quite _simple, really.'

'Oh, it seems simple enough to me. It just doesn't fit into my concept of "unification". What I see is a bunch of heavily armed mutants forcibly kidnapping people and turning them into more of you so you can… what?... take over the wasteland?'

'Look at it this way. Certainly even you have noticed the steady downhill slide of civilization?'

'Well, yes, but that doesn't have anything to do with—'

'The Super Mutant is the next advancement in human evolution. To save the world, we will convert all the worthy individuals. Simple. Efficient. Glorious.'

Alex knew this. Albert had said as much in his report. But it was one thing to read about it and another to hear actually hear a proponent of it say it out loud… and with such confidence and cold enthusiasm. Alex shuddered inwardly but tried to keep his outer appearance as defiant as possible.

'So you're making everyone into big, green, ugly mutants to save the world?' he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

The Lieutenant sighed in disappointment. 'Your human mind is rather under-equipped to handle this, so a simple yes will suffice for now. Soon everyone in the world will be converted and peace will reign.'

'And you're going to force this brand of peace upon everyone whether they like it or not. Your future doesn't seem to have a high opinion of free will.'

'Did _you _make the choice to be born into this ash covered world? We, the super mutants, are the best prepared for the world to come. What is free choice compared to life?'

'That's quite a claim,' Alex challenged. 'You think you're the _best prepared_?'

'Is it not intuitively obvious to the most casual observer? We are highly intelligent and immunte to disease.'

'Not all of you. From what I've seen and heard, some of you are dumb as bones.'

'Failed and unworthy specimens. We only needed them as cannon fodder. Surely after all the digging and meddling you and your friends have done, you must now be aware of FEV and its purposes.'

'Yeah. From what I heard, it didn't work.'

'Nonsense. There were simply some unforeseen circumstances that needed to be overcome. It cannot work effectively on those already exposed to radiation. Those living in this desolate wasteland have already been exposed to varying doses of radiation, essentially inoculating them from the full effects.'

'"Inoculating"?' Alex scoffed at the Lieutenant's choice of words. 'You mean they die.'

'Not all of them, but most.'

'So what you're saying is you need those who are uncontaminated – "prime normals" like me – in order to make super mutants like yourself.'

The Lieutenant grinned widely in satisfaction. 'Oh, my, you are brighter than I thought. Now you know why we need your vault.'

'No, I don't. There are already over a hundred, maybe more, of your kind in Necropolis. And you probably have hundreds more scattered across the wasteland.'

'Thousands,' the Lieutenant corrected him. 'Over many years. But few were fortunate enough to have been spared a lifetime of environmental radiation exposure before being dipped. Fewer still emerged from the Vats still in full command of their faculties like the Master, or myself, or some of the other super mutants here. The FEV was designed to create perfection, but perfection requires the best humanity has to offer in order to fulfill its potential.'

'And you'rethe perfect human,' Alex said sarcastically.

The Lieutenant was unfazed. 'Better. _More _than human. I too was once human. Like you, I was a slug, wallowing in the mud before being exposed to FEV and undergoing my glorious transformation.'

'And just how did you know you wouldn'tend up dead or insane like the countless others when you were about to be dipped?'

'I didn't. In this world we now live in, only the strong survive. Sacrifices need to be made if we are to improvethe human race and make it a viable option in the wasteland. I volunteered for the process because I supported the ideals of the Unity and the Master. But how I ended up where I am today is an eventuality determined by fate. Luck of the draw. I was simply the strongest of my batch to be dipped in the virus.'

'Yes, well, your strength is useless if you can't procreate.'

A flash of displeasure crossed the otherwise sinisterly cheerful disposition of the Lieutenant. But in another moment it was gone. 'You _are _partially correct, human,' he said. 'Presently there _is _a slight… problem in the reproductive process. And for now, we must use the Vats to turn humans into super mutants. But rest assured that this issue is being attended to.'

'And I suppose it's so trivial that no one bothered telling the Master of it…'

'The Master is too busy with the Children of the Cathedral to be bothered with issues that will soon be resolved. Although…' the Lieutenant's features darkened again. 'I _would _be interested to learn of how you came to presume to know what the Master does and does not know.'

_Can it be?_ Alex thought to himself. Could the Lieutenant and all his mutants here have not yet heard word of the destruction of the Cathedral in the south? Alex wondered if he could use this information to his advantage. 'I have friends who paid the Children of the Cathedral a little visit recently,' he said, choosing his words carefully, at least for the moment.

'Ah yes, the Children,' the Lieutenant said with some amusement. 'They actually consider us gods. But then, who can blame them?'

'My, aren't _we_ conceited?' Alex shot back.

'Is honesty conceit?' the Lieutenant countered. 'We're the next step in evolution. Through our Unity, the world will survive. Where is the conceit in that?'

'Well, if you actually think you're gods…'

'Of course we don't. We are simply the future.'

Alex paused. He had just about run out of things to say. But he couldn't let it end. Not yet. 'What if I told you your future is already dead?' he proposed, unsure if his next words were wise.

'I would attribute it to your limited scope of appreciation,' the Lieutenant replied.

'I happen to know that, even as we speak, the Cathedral in the Boneyard and the hidden vault beneath it now lie in smoldering ruins, destroyed by the very thing the Master was trying to avoid ever using again.'

The Lieutenant's large protruding eyebrows lowered in an intimidating frown as he towered over Alex on his chair. 'That's not a charge to make lightly,' he said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

'It's true. When was the last time you received word from the south? It must be at least three weeks by now.'

'Which is perfectly normal. It _is _a long distance from here, even for a super mutant.'

'Or perhaps the reason is because there's no one left to come tell you about it. Any of the Children who knew enough about the Master's plan and the Unity are dead. The only ones left are scattered and clueless. You've already lost your greatest weapon – your ability to infiltrate the various settlements with your human spies.'

The last traces of a smile had long vanished from the Lieutenant's face. 'Were that true, that would be a blow indeed – to lose he who was the first of us, our guide to the life-giving virus, and Father to us all. Yet at this point, _his_ mission is complete. His vision has spread and taken root. Our armies are nearly large enough that we can take over any settlement even without the Children. And when we finally have access to your vault, who knows? With all the prime normals within, we may well be blessed by another with the intelligence, strength, and foresight of the Master. And if not, _I _will guide the mutant armies until one can be found. So you see, my dear human, despite your futile attempts to spark disillusionment, there is really no recourse left to you.' The Lieutenant got up from his desk and stretched. 'And that means the time for questions is over,' he said. 'You have heard the plans of the Unity. What is your decision?'

The moment of truth had come but it was not greeted with fanfare and the sound of the guns of his friends coming to liberate him. So this was how it would all end, Alex thought – not with a bang, as that famous poet he had read about back in the Vault had once said, but with a whimper. Alex gritted his teeth. If this was how it had to be, then so be it. But the Lieutenant would get nothing from him. There was no way he would betray Albert, Natalia, Theresa, Pat, or any of the other vault dwellers in Vault-13. Even if _they_ had let him down by failing to come to his aid when he needed them the most…

'My decision is that you are _already _disillusioned to think your plan will succeed and you will have no help from me,' he said resolutely.

The Lieutenant gave a light sigh. 'Oh, how disappointing,' he said, regaining some of his artificial cheer. 'I'd so hoped you would see the light before… Well, when you are one of us, I'm certain you'll understand. Then you'll embrace the Unity.'

'How does "no way" sound?' Alex said defiantly.

'We shall see, won't we?' said the Lieutenant, taking a menacing step towards him.

Alex couldn't have dodged even if he had wanted to. For someone so big, the Lieutenant moved swiftly, his enormous tree trunk of an arm swinging toward's Alex's chest. The blow sent Alex flying, chair and all, all the way till he crashed noisily against the far wall. His head connected with the wall, leaving him dazed, his lungs gasping for air from the blow to his chest.

Before he could recover, the Lieutenant was at him again. Picking him up by the leg of the chair on which he was still tied, the Lieutenant hurled him violently across the room to the other wall. Alex's knee struck the wall first, this time, and he distinctly heard a crunching noise as the pain exploded through his entire leg.

He lay on the ground, the bonds having come loose, the chair now partially mangled. The Lieutenant again loomed over him, casting his enormous shadow over Alex's relatively tiny form. The Lieutenant flexed his gigantic shoulders.

'Feel better now?' he said, sounding strangely more jovial than before. 'Since torture is such a crass… yet oddly satisfying and effective technique, I'll ask you once more nicely. Where. Is. The Vault?'

Alex looked up at the hulking behemoth from where he lay and spat blood at the Lieutenant's feet. 'I'm. Not. Telling,' he responded in kind, even as he tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his knee.

'I rather hoped you'd say that,' the Lieutenant said icily. He leaned over and gripped Alex's left shoulder in his broad fingers and began to squeeze. At first Alex tried to grit his teeth and bear it, but it wasn't long until he could take it no longer, especially once he felt his muscle and then bone give way under the Lieutenant's iron grip. He screamed out loud then, much to the Lieutenant's amusement. Still gripping onto his fractured shoulder, the Lieutenant again tossed Alex across the room. Again the wind was knocked out of him. As he hit the ground, his busted knee landed first, sending another intense wave of pain through him.

'How was that?' the Lieutenant asked as he approached the increasingly battered vault dweller. 'In a more… chatty mood? Now where were we? Oh, of course… the Vault.'

Alex was breathing hard, his body now covered in sweat from the pain. His vision was getting warped and blurry. He didn't think he had ever been in that much physical agony in his entire life, not even when he lost part of his ear and finger at the watershed in Necropolis all those months ago. He struggled to his feet, now free from the broken bonds and the mangled chair. He stood as straight as he could even though he was leaning heavily on his one good leg. He stared directly up at the Lieutenant. The Lieutenant, in return, grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall again.

'Well?' The Lieutenant said expectantly.

Alex struggled to breathe. 'It's… It's…' The Lieutenant lightened his grip just a fraction to allow air back into Alex's lungs. 'It's in your dreams,' Alex finished.

Again the Lieutenant swung his fist at Alex, but this time with more force and more than once. His knuckles connected repeatedly with three of Alex's ribs, sending spots into Alex's already swimming vision. On the third and most forceful blow, two of the ribs snapped and Alex was againt sent halfway across the room. He skidded to a halt in the middle of the floor. Again he tried to rise, but this time it was too much. He could only manage to push himself up on one arm. Every breath was excruciating.

The Lieutenant sighed happily. 'I feel much better,' he said. 'And you?' Alex didn't respond. 'Now be a good little human and tell me where your Vault is. This is getting most tedious.'

Alex's body was shaking as he tried to keep himself raised above the floor. It hurt even to move his head but he managed it anyway until he looking directly into the Lieutenant's one good eye. 'Go to hell,' he spat.

This time, and much to Alex's relief, the Lieutenant did not come at him again. 'I do so admire your will,' the Lieutenant said before turning to one of the other super mutant guards in the room. 'Marcus, take him to his cell and prepare him for the dipping. He'll tell us where his vault is when he's one of us.'

'If you're so… sure I'll tell after… dipping… then why all of this?' Alex managed.

'Well, you see, there is this minor drawback,' the Lieutenant explained nonchalantly. 'Sometimes, not always, a person's memory is, um… how shall we say… interrupted by dipping. So there is a small chance you'll forget the location.'

'Looks like we're both screwed,' Alex laughed painfully.

'Unfortunately, at this point, I have to take the chance. I _do _need that information.'

'You'd better hope I forget,' he said as the mutant named Marcus came to retrieve him from the floor, 'because… if I remember any of this when I become a super mutant… your ass is mine.'

The mutant named Marcus lifted Alex's broken body easily, cradling the vault dweller in both arms although he could easily have carried him with one. The last sight of the Lieutenant Alex saw was of him turning back to a large computer terminal in the room filled with statistical data. Perhaps, Alex thought, they were the projection numbers for the growing super mutant population.

Alex was so flooded with the pain of multiple broken limbs and bones that when Marcus first spoke to him, he heard nothing. Gradually, he was brought out from his semi-conscious state enough to make out the words.

'… apologize, human, for what you had to endure,' said Marcus. 'The Lieutenant has been… under some pressure lately, and we _do _desperately need the numbers your vault will provide.'

'Why… why should you care… what pain a human feels?' Alex mumbled weakly, blood oozing from his lips as he spoke.

'Because you will soon be one of us, brother,' came the reply, sending a chill down Alex's spine even though it was said with no malice. 'Rest assured your body will heal quickly once you have been dipped into the FEV. A much faster rate of cellular-division and and overall physical regeneration is just one of the many blessings of becoming one of us. Nevertheless, it is… regrettable that we sometimes harm those who would soon become a part of us. It is very possible, after all, that you may become one of the better and stronger of us after your dipping.'

'… Will it… hurt?'

'Yes,' Marcus replied honestly. 'But it will be a good kind of pain. Like cauterizing an infection with fire. And you _will _emerge stronger from it. You were blessed with growing up in a radiation-free environment, human. That is something most of the rest of us can only dream of. Until you have become one of us and can see things the way we do, at least take solace in that good fortune.'

Alex gave a pained laugh. He tried to speak, to tell Marcus that lucky was the last possible thing he felt right then, but the exertion of speaking had finally overwhelmed him. Darkness overcame him and he fell into the painless bliss of unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>END OF CHAPTER.<p>

**SPOILER**

Honestly, I don't think this is much of a spoiler, but you never know who thinks what constitutes a spoiler. Anyway, this is my conclusion about the Brotherhood in New Vegas:

They are complete DICKS!

First they make my character strip, and then they put an explosive collar on his neck? I can understand mistrust, but that's just... rude. It was at that point that I reloaded and had my character blast them all to pieces, not even bothering to hear whatever backstory they might have had.

So anyway, the reason I mention this is because the Brotherhood in this here novelization come across as much nicer people (maybe a bit more like the Brotherhood over in DC, in F3). I suppose I could rationalize all of this and say that the ones here just _became _more paranoid and self-serving by the time of New Vegas. So maybe it's not so big a deal. And, they _were _rather mean when they sent the vault dweller all the way to the Glow, after all. But, really, the New Vegas Brotherhood just... grrr... So, yes, this is what I'm going with: the Brotherhood here still have some dickishness to them, but they haven't become total assholes yet.


	34. Chapter 33: Diversion and Infiltration

We're one step closer to the end!

I should probably mention one thing about links between the novelization and the game(s). For those of you who've played Fallout 3 and/or New Vegas, you know the centaurs I describe in this novelization are quite different. That's because they're based on Fallout 1's two-headed centaurs. I've also taken some liberties with regard to how they move, as you likely found out in the previous chapter. I just thought a mutated creature that moves around on 6 human arms and hands would be so much freakier if it scuttled rapidly around like a spider as opposed to plodded along like the centaurs in Fallout 3 and New Vegas do. So, yeah, that was my rationale. For the sake of continuity, I suppose you could say all these freaky, fast-moving, two-headed centaurs died out shortly after the events of Fallout 2; maybe two brains in one body just wasn't gonna cut it. Anyway... just thought I'd raise that point for those of you who have never had a chance to play Fallout 1 or 2.

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Diversion and Infiltration**

Marcus looked down from the wooded hilltop at the exposition center as the first two squads of super mutants investigated the scene, looking for some sign of a struggle. These were the coordinates given in the distress radio transmission that the guards at Mariposa had picked up. Yet Marcus couldn't help but think something was wrong. From where he stood, he could see no evidence of the mutant patrol that had supposedly come under attack – no bodies, no blood, no weapons, and no visible collateral damage to the environment. It was dark, true, so perhaps the teams down below had spotted something after all, but Marcus suspected that if there had actually been a fight going on, the damage to the surrounding buildings would have been noticeable even in the dark of the night.

Marcus had expressed his initial concerns to the first sergeant of the assault team who had waved it off. What enemy could possibly hope to best the super mutants, after all? Besides the army at Necropolis, this was the largest force of super mutants that had yet been mobilized. Even Marcus had had to agree with Sergeant Vanders on that count. Twenty super mutants, eighteen floaters, and twelve centaurs. It was overkill, but then the Lieutenant had wanted to make a resounding statement against whoever it was who had been so bold as to attack super mutants head on, barely more than a mile from the military base. Half that force was currently down at the exposition center, fanning out between, around, and inside the buildings, trying to find any trace of the team that had gone missing here.

Vanders, standing beside Marcus on the hilltop raised his radioset. 'Report. What's the status?'

'Nothing,' came the reply. 'Centaurs haven't picked up even a whiff. It's like there was noth—'

The gunshot, fired from some kind of high-caliber rifle, was deafening. Even from where Marcus was standing, he could see one of the super mutants down below jerk from the impact. The shot had gone clean through his head. Even as tough as super mutants were, their skulls were no match for a .233 full metal jacketed round fired at full velocity from a DKS-501 sniper rifle. For a second, the super mutant who had been hit just stood there with a slightly surprised look in his face. Then he keeled over and collapsed.

'To the north!' Marcus yelled, pointing at another hill overlooking the exposition center from where Marcus had seen the flash of light. But even as he spoke, there came the roar of Rockwell bazookas from the southeast. Two explosive rockets flew right in the middle of a squad of super mutants and detonated, splattering chunks of mutant flesh and organs against the walls of the nearby buildings.

'Ambush!' yelled one of the other super mutants down below.

Their enemies hadn't been down at the exposition center at all! That was why the centaurs hadn't sniffed them out already! Marcus peered into the gloom and spotted the glint of full-bodied metal armor in the moonlight. He recognized them. He had gotten into a fight with a small squad of them months before. He had prevailed against those Brotherhood of Steel soldiers, but only barely. Never had Marcus seen them out in fighting force before. Those three he had killed with his own squad of mutants almost a year ago had been scavenging an old military outpost for weapons or technology. These ones though… these ones were clearly out for a fight. And as gunfire erupted from all around the exposition center, Marcus could see that, like him and the other mutants, they had come in force.

The mutants down below were beginning to take cover behind or inside the buildings as the night exploded into a cacophony of gunfire as dozens of small explosions erupted all over the place. Dozens more muzzle flashes appeared from all around, marking the locations of the Brotherhood soldiers. Most of them were concentrated to the north and southeast but by the look of the muzzle flashes, there were others scattered all around. Most of this gunfire from the Brotherhood side was directed at the mutant forces concentrated around the single-storey buildings of the exposition center below. The mutants returned fire but they were shooting at enemies positioned at a higher elevation who had also manage to catch them in a crossfire. The floaters and centaurs scattered, trying to find the best way to close the distance to the Brotherhood soldiers without getting riddled full of bullets at the same time.

'Vanders!' Marcus shouted at the commander who did not seem to have overcome his surprise just yet. 'You and your squad take the ones to the north. I'll take mine and circle around the south to get those who are on the southeast side.'

Vanders nodded. But before any of them could do anything, several buildings erupted in giant fireballs as the explosives concealed within by the Brotherhood saboteurs much earlier on were now detonated remotely. Almost a quarter of the fighting force, especially those taking cover in the buildings, were either killed instantly or badly maimed.

In the sudden flare of light, Marcus realized that his, Vanders, and the rest of their forces' semi-hidden positions on the hilltop had suddenly been illuminated. A few seconds later, they were under fire. Chainguns, assault rifles, and submachineguns went on full auto. Rockets began arcing back and forth creating flashes of light with each small explosion they caused, complemented by the more sporadic detonations of hand grenades. Laser weapons on both the super mutant and human sides came to life, creating blazing red lines of fire that turned the battlefield into a sea of crisscrossing beams of death.

'Use the trees! We'll circle the perimeter!' he yelled to his team before cranking up his CZ53 minigun. The six barrels spun furiously as he repaid the Brotherhood soldiers with his own supply of burning lead.

* * *

><p>Even though he could see them through the night vision viewer built into his helmet, Rhombus knew he and the rest of the Brotherhood task force were not having an easy time lining up shots. He had to give it to the super mutants. After the initial ambush, they had recovered quickly. Whoever was in charge was giving them effective commands. The mutants knew how to take cover and make flanking movements. Even the ghastly floaters and centaurs seemed to know something of strategy and while they were limited by their short range attack capabilities, they knew how to spread out to avoid area-effect weapons. And given how quickly they moved, it was almost impossible to hit them until they got close. As for the super mutants themselves, they weren't quite as disciplined or as precise as Rhombus' own soldiers, but they had equal firepower and their tough hides and their seeming ability to shrug off pain compensated for their relative lack of training or armor.<p>

Amidst the chaos of the explosions and blinding fireworks erupting from seemingly everywhere at once, Rhombus managed to score a glancing blow to the head of one of the super mutants but it wasn't enough to bring the thing down. Many of these mutants apparently either had really small brains or really tough skulls. Either way, only a precise, central headshot through the temple or the top of the head would guarantee a quick kill. Anything that deviated just a little would only serve to annoy the mutant.

Rhombus' heard a gurgling noise and glanced down to see a floater had managed to sneak up the slope amidst the chaos without any of the other paladins or knights noticing. Rhombus saw the thing lower its disc-shaped upper body. Its long tongue snapped out from the orifice in the center of the disc and Rhombus had only enough time to lift his armored arm in front of his face when the floater spat out its toxic secretions. Against power armor, the floaters couldn't do much damage, but apparently these creatures had learnt to go straight for the paladins' helmet visors. If they were blinded, even temporarily, that would be all the advantage the super mutants would need to take them out. And if the creatures' venom was corrosive that wouldn't be good either.

The noxious goo dripped harmlessly off his forearm. Even before the first drop had hit the ground, Rhombus had swatted the floater aside with the hot barrel of his laser rifle. The vile fluids from the bulbous sacs that hung from the creature's upper body smeared the barrel, hissing as they vaporized from the heat.

The floater hit the ground, its tail flailing wildly as it struggled to regain its balance and make a second attack. Rhombus lowered his rifle again and casually fired a short laser beam right down the center of the floater's disc.

Before Rhombus could return his attentions to the line of super mutants moving over the hilltop on the opposite side of the exposition center, he heard maddened barking. A centaur had managed to crawl silently and slowly, in a very spider-like way, from tree-to-tree, branch-to-branch above the heads of the Brotherhood soldiers and had set its sights on Rhombus.

Even with his artificially boosted strength and stability, thanks to the power armor he wore, Rhombus was thrown off his feet by the impact. Under the weight of the exceptionally heavy centaur, he saw the two heads – one doglike, the other somewhat humanlike – bearing down on him. Two long red tongues snaked out of the human head's mouth. Rhombus wasn't sure if the creature had the capability to penetrate the seals of the power armor, but he knew he didn't want to find out.

Freeing one of his hands, Rhombus pushed hard, raising the centaur just high enough so that neither of its heads could quite reach him.

'I've got this one sir,' he heard one of his paladins say a second before the heavy mallet of a super sledgehammer – a weapon designed with a kinetic energy storage device housed within the mallet head itself to increase knockback – connected with the centaur's body and two of its right human-like arms. The sledgehammer delivered all its stored energy directly into the centaur's side, sending the heavy creature flying three feet into the air.

The centaur landed neatly on all six of its "legs" beside two knights dressed in Brotherhood combat armor. Before the creature could react, one of the knights brought his ripper vibroblade down onto the neck of the centaur's human head. With a savage battle cry, he used one hand to grasp hold of the thing's head while his other kept the ripper digging steadily deeper into the neck. The sound of flesh being carved up by vibroblade spinning at over eighty miles per hour could only partially be drowned out by the surrounding noise of battle, and when the blade hit the centaur's spinal column, the unsettling sounds reached new heights of disturbing, ear-shattering discordance.

The centaur's remaining head flapped wildly around like a dead fish as the human head was sawn off in particularly grisly fashion. The other knight took the opportunity to hammer the canine head with the butt of his assault rifle and then finish it up with a burst fired point blank into the centaur's main body.

Rhombus gave the two knights a nod of approval before turning the scope of his rifle back to the super mutants.

He had only fired off a few more shots when his internal radio came to life. 'Four mutants! Charging from the south! They've broken through our lines!' came the call.

Rhombus turned to his signaler – a senior knight specialized in infocommunications. 'Tell Section Three to pull back and seal the gap,' he ordered. As the knight proceeded to make the call, giving Rhombus time to formulate other plans, a new threat emerged. Enemy miniguns had so thoroughly chewed through the trunks of the surrounding trees that some of the thinner ones were starting to fall. One unlucky knight happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, along with two other floaters, when the collapsing tree smashed straight into him, crushing most of his bones and organs instantly. One of the floaters was completely squashed, the other ended up trapped.

Rhombus tapped the signaler on the shoulder to get his attention. 'Get Section Two to pull around the side of the hill to get into flanking position. We'll head down to the buildings that remain to find cover and absorb the brunt of their fire.'

As the radioman gave the command, Rhombus signaled to his own section and, with a sudden outpouring of fire to cover their movement, they made a desperate charge away from the rapidly collapsing foliage behind them.

* * *

><p>When the distant explosions were first heard, the super mutants congregated within the perimeter of the fence surrounding the military base remained unperturbed. But when multiple detonations were not only heard but seen from just over the nearby hills, the mood changed significantly. Small groups of mutants were sent out to secure key defensive positions outside of the perimeter while those within began moving old vehicles, that had been left in the parking lot outside the base during the time of the War, to form makeshift cover.<p>

In the midst of the commotion and during one of the nearby detonations, no one noticed the guard by the side entrance jerk as a .233 round penetrated his left temple. A few seconds later, a ring-shaped hole was cut into the metal fence just beside the side door. The incisions were made with a superheated incision tool, making the part of the fence that was being cut glow with the heat.

Once the section of the fence was removed, a blurry-shaped figure passed through and stopped at the door. While the timed charges did their work in distracting the mutants, invisible fingers punched the access number into the keypad by the door. The number had been easy to obtain: dozens of super mutants had been moving in and out of the base since the first false distress transmission from Rhombus' diversionary team had alerted the mutants half an hour ago. Most of the super mutants had used the main access ramp leading into the base, but dozens more had passed into and out of the side entrance, giving would be observers plenty of opportunities to spy from a distance on the codes used.

Now the door slid open and the blurred figure moved in. Inside, a single metal staircase spiraled down to the first basement level of the facility. Shortly after the blurred shape descended, four more figures entered the stairwell through the same side entrance. Three were in power armor, one was dressed in leather armor and a trench coat.

They waited patiently, calm but alert, their weapons held at the ready. Traffic through this side entrance had long since died down but one could never be too sure.

Almost ten minutes later, the blurred figure returned, ascending the staircase again. The stealth field dissipated, revealing Natalia, dressed in Brotherhood-issued combat armor and carrying the turbo-accelerated plasma rifle that Alex had left behind at the staging area.

'You're late,' said one of the Brotherhood paladins.

'Yeah, well it wasn't a walk in the park,' Natalia retorted. 'The place is a fortress. Most of the super mutants on the first level have gathered in the guard barracks. So long as another alert doesn't sound and the patrols don't change any time soon, we can avoid them.'

'What's the problem then?' asked the second paladin called Dan.

'Almost every entryway is barred by energy fields. They've got the place on lockdown. No one's getting in or out unless the people with the power say so or if they have some kind of access cards to pass through each barrier.'

'I assume you didn't just stop at the first energy field for ten minutes,' the first paladin, Schuster, said sarcastically.

Natalia showed him her electronic picks. 'This gets me through. But it's slow. Too slow. We can't be doing this at every field we come across. There are at least half a dozen we have to get through just to reach the elevators, the override only lasts a couple of seconds, and if any mutant catches sight of us while I'm working on the control panels, we're screwed.'

'What else are we up against and where do we want to go?' asked Tycho.

'The elevators at the back likely lead down to wherever the FEV is stored. But the elevator doors are blocked by energy fields and the lobby is lined with docking bays for their automated robot security. And _all _the robots have gone active thanks to the general alert.'

'There may be a way I can remotely access their security systems,' said Jennifer, the last paladin. Her addition to the team had been a last minute affair. When both the diversionary and infiltration teams had reached the staging area, Jennifer had requested a transfer after hearing of Alex's abduction. Due to her rank and the fact that she was actually more proficient in technical skills than the other paladin formerly assigned to the infiltration team (who was more than happy to join Rhombus and the other paladins in what he knew would be a fierce battle), Rhombus permitted the transfer. To Jennifer all that mattered was getting Alex back. 'If I can get into their network, I should be able to deactivate the fields on a more permanent basis,' she told the group. 'We just need to get to one of their computer terminals that's hooked up to the main servers in the facility.'

'Glad you mentioned that,' said Natalia. 'There's one right smack in the middle of the complex – some kind of central security station for the level. Unfortunately, it's likely well defended from inside. _And_, there are two ways in and out, _both _blocked by energy fields.'

'You get us through one of the fields, we'll handle the security inside,' said Schuster.

'And then what?' asked Natalia.

'Then I work my magic,' said Jennifer.

'Well, for all our sakes, I hope your magic works quickly,' Natalia commented.

'You haven't _seen _her magic,' said Dan before catching himself. 'Oh wait. Didn't mean it that way.' Jennifer rolled her eyes and punched him playfully but enough to hurt. 'We've been friends six years now. She's the best field tech operative we have… well, except for that new boyfriend of hers, that is.'

'Except for him…' Jennifer said wistfully.

'We'll get him back,' Natalia reassured both Jennifer and herself.

'Not gonna happen if we stand around talking about it,' Schuster said with mild impatience.

Natalia led the way down the stairs and into the first level. She reactivated her cloaking field, then moved out of the stairwell and into the corridors of the main complex.

Progress was tedious. Natalia would scout ahead, determine the least patrolled passages, signal the rest, and then work on the energy field blocking their way to the next leg of their journey to the security room. There were several close calls along the way as they did their best to avoid the few mutants assigned to patrolling the corridors while the lockdown was in effect. But, after a whole lot of taking two steps back for every three steps forward, they finally found themselves at one of the doorways to the security room. As Natalia began working on the control panel controlling the energy field, the rest stood guard, keeping their eyes cast in both directions of the corridor.

'We're sitting ducks here,' Dan commented.

'Not helping,' Natalia shot back as she fiddled with the knobs and control screen on her electronic lockpick set. 'Temporarily deactivating energy barriers isn't exactly an established science.'

'You'd better _make_ it one, and quick,' said Dan, pointing down the corridor. Everyone turned to see a super mutant with an assault rifle walking across the passageway further down.

'Just pray he doesn't… turn,' Schuster's last word came out as an almost disappointed sigh.

The mutant turned, spotted them, roared his alarm and raised his rifle. But Schuster beat him to it. The high explosive rocket tore down the corridor from Schuster's rocket launcher. His aim was impeccable. The rocket hit the mutant square in the middle of his chest. As the micro-warhead detonated, they actually saw pieces of the mutant scatter.

'I'm in!' Natalia declared.

As the force field dissipated, the door just behind it suddenly slid open revealing a very surprised-looking super mutant who had emerged to see what the commotion had been all about.

Jennifer moved first, leaping forward, grabbing the super mutant by the arm with one hand and jamming her ripper vibroblade into his midsection with the other. Even as the mutant was eviscerated on the spot, Jennifer yanked hard on the mutant's arm, her strength augmented by the hydraulics in her power armor. She managed to pull the mutant clear of the doorway, leaving the space wide open for Dan to step in with his minigun. The six barrels spun noisily as hundreds of jacketed, hollow-point, 5mm bullets engulfed the security room in a cloud of hot lead.

At the end of it, four technicians and three more super mutants lay dead, their blood staining the floor and walls.

'You'd better not have damaged any of the computers,' Jennifer warned.

'Relax,' Dan assured her. 'I'm a professional.'

All of them filtered into the room with Natalia coming in last and working to seal the door behind them with her electronic lockpicks. Jennifer headed over to the computers and, after a brief survey of their readouts, stopped at the one computer whose screen had gone dark. The casing that housed the CPU below it had a single hole in it from a stray bullet.

'You are _some _professional, alright,' Jennifer said sarcastically. 'All the computers in the room and you had to hit the central hub. Nicely done, Dan.' She looked around at the other side of the room where other computers had been hooked up to the security cameras. 'Rip out one of those CPUs and bring it here. I may be able to salvage this one.'

At just that moment, warning klaxons came to life and a single red light in the corner of the room started flashing. A second later, an automated female voice sounded over the intercom system: 'Warning! Intruder alert.'

'Wonderful,' Jennifer rolled her eyes. 'Get me that CPU on the double, mister! We're gonna have the whole base crawling up our asses if we don't get access to the security network soon.'

'Natalia, have you sealed those doors?' asked Schuster.

'Working on it,' said Natalia.

'Work on it _faster_,' he said. 'We can't defend two entryways at the same time.'

Tycho walked over to the large weapons locker in the corner of the room, inspected the lock, then called to Natalia. 'Natalia. Plasma.'

With barely a glance as she continued working to seal the door through which they had just entered, Natalia unholstered her plasma pistol and tossed it towards Tycho. He grabbed it, aimed the barrel at the lock, and with one blast melted the lock and a good chunk of the locker door.

The inside of the locker was filled with conventional weaponry – nothing that could trump any of the weapons he or the other paladins had brought along with them. Still, it was better not to waste any ammo they had brought with them for what he had in mind. He spotted a pair of SMGs and their magazines and, after slinging his own combat shotgun around his neck and one arm, proceeded to load the weapons.

Natalia cast a second glance back at him – a man wearing a trenchcoat, carrying a submachine gun in each hand with a spare shotgun hanging around one shoulder. 'You are just a walking movie cliché,' she commented as she returned to her work. 'See if you can find a pair of shades in there while you're at it. Might as well finish the picture.'

'Where are you going?' asked Schuster as Tycho headed for the other door to the room after attaching a few flash grenades from the locker to his belt for good measure.

'They're going to figure out we're in here sooner or later,' Tycho replied. 'Might as well take out some of the lights in this place – make us less of a target. Maybe you can give me some cover while I'm at it.'

While Shuster covered Tycho out in the hallway, Tycho proceeded to spray the ceiling lights with the two SMGs. Amidst the periodic wailing of the warning siren, the gunshots weren't all that loud.

While Tycho was busy taking out the lights, Jennifer was on her back, beneath the long control panel where the processing units for each of the computers on that side of the room were stored, quickly but calmly replacing the busted CPU with parts salvaged from the other CPU that Dan held in his hands.

'That's quite the skill you have there, Jennifer,' Natalia said as Jennifer started tossing out damaged parts and replacing them with working ones.

'Nothing like what Alex can do,' said Jennifer. The pause that ensued told Natalia that they had both secretly been far more worried about Alex than they had revealed to the rest.

'We'll get him back,' Natalia repeated her earlier assurance.

'Yeah,' Jennifer replied, though it didn't sound too hopeful.

It took them another minute but both Natalia and Jennifer finished at around the same time. Jennifer removed her metal gloves and proceeded to hammer away at the keys, trying to hack into the defense network.

Natalia's success with the door came none too soon. Barely ten seconds later, they all heard someone on the other side of the door try to open it. When it didn't budge, a heavy fist hit the door repeatedly.

'Hey!' came the voice of a super mutant. 'Where the hell are the security bots? And why is this door locked?'

At first, no one spoke. Then Dan blurted out in what was perhaps the most unconvincing deep mutant voice any of them had ever heard, 'Uh… the alarm triggered the lockdowns on the door. We're working on opening it now.'

'Who's in there?' asked the voice on the other side of the door. The suspicion was evident.

'Er… Bob,' he finished lamely.

'Bob!' Jennifer hissed at him. 'That's the best you could come up with?!'

'Intruders!' the mutant on the other end yelled to whoever was with him. 'Circle around to the other side. I'll start cutting through this one.'

'Ah, shit,' Dan swore.

They heard the sound of a laser rifle as it powered up. Natalia removed her hand from the door as it started heating up.

'The laser rifle's going to overheat,' said Natalia. 'Either it'll take him a heck of a lot of time to cut through with that, or he'll have to figure out something else. In the meantime, we'd better take defensive positions with Tycho and Shuster. They'll be at us pretty soon.'

'Well, I'm in their WLAN matrix network. Give me a minute or two and I should be able to power down the force barriers and find out where we need to go—hello! What's this?'

Natalia stopped in midstride to the other door. She peered over Jennifer's shoulder but saw only meaningless strings of computer script on the screen.

'What is it?' she asked.

'Apparently, this computer also controls remote unit operations.'

'Meaning?'

'This facility has an army of General Atomics International industrial robots, half of which have been retrofitted and reprogrammed to be a security force for the base.'

'That's what those robots milling around the elevator doors must be,' Natalia observed.

'Give me a few more minutes and I may be able to get us some automated backup,' said Jennifer. 'But first. This.' With a few dozen keystrokes, the alarm abruptly fell silent, the red lights within the security room and outside in the corridor no longer flashing.

'That did it,' said Natalia.

Then the firing from outside began and Natalia rushed to join the rest. Shuster and Dan's heavy weapons made it difficult for them to take cover and fire at the same time, so, under the cover of darkness afforded by the destroyed overhead lights, they stood out in the open, firing rockets and hundreds of 5mm rounds down both ends of the hallway, relying on the strength of their power armor to protect them from stray shots. Tycho and Natalia, dressed in far less protective armor, fired from the relative safety of the doorway.

'How are we doing?' Shuster called through the doorway to Jennifer on the inside.

'I have access to the force fields,' she called back over the gunfire. 'But the shields are slowing the mutant reinforcements down as much as they keep us out. Right now they have to manually deactivate every barrier they come across. Once I lift the force fields, every mutant on this level is going to be swarming us.'

'Solution,' he said as an order.

'Give me another minute and I'll have something.'

'We don't _have _another minute.'

Several dozen rounds from a minigun fired down the hallway hit their mark, peppering Shuster's arm and chest plate. None of them seemed to penetrate, but, in addition to making loud ricocheting sounds and making a whole of dents in his armor, the barrage of bullets also forced him to stagger back.

'Hurry it up!' he yelled as he returned fire with a rocket of his own.

As if in response, a loud metallic thud sounded against the door Natalia had sealed. Again it was repeated; someone was trying to break through using some kind of makeshift battering ram. By the fourth blow, a small inward dent began to form in the middle of the door.

'Damn it!' Jennifer swore to herself as she furiously resumed her hacking.

Thirty seconds later, the door have caved enough that a gap between the door and the frame was beginning to show.

'Status!' Schuster called.

Jennifer finished a few more keystrokes. 'Done!' she declared.

'Done what?' Natalia asked.

'All the fields are going down and I've changed the defense protocols for the automated security.' She paused for dramatic emphasis. 'In the _entire _complex.'

'So what does that mean, exactly?' Natalia asked.

'It means…' Jennifer didn't need to say more. Gunfire had erupted from all over the complex as the robotic security, now granted free access across the compound with the energy barriers taken down, began turning on those they had originally been programmed to protect.

'Let's get moving,' said Schuster as the entire complex around them became increasingly engulfed in chaos. Even the attempts by the super mutants to break down the sealed door – now damaged enough that they could see clearly into the hallway beyond through the gap – had ceased.

'Wait a moment,' said Jennifer to Schuster, bringing up a 3D schematic of the entire complex on the computer screen. The lower level's missing from this schematic. I think all the systems down there are controlled independently of the rest of the floors. I suspect that's where the Vats are located. And if Albert's report from the Glow is right and this place really is a military research base that researched controversial super soldier viruses, then I'm willing to bet there'll probably be a control room with self-destruct protocols. But _this_…' She pointed to the bottommost part of the complex that the 3D map actually showed. It was a U-shaped corridor with small rooms attached on each side. 'That's where Alex is housed.'

'Can you unlock the cell doors from here?' asked Natalia.

'No. Besides, we don't want to alert any of the guards that are down there. We'll just have to rely on your lockpicks. Either that or use a shaped explosive charge to destroy the door.'

'Well, then let's go!' Natalia urged.

Jennifer gave the map one last look, then typed in a few last commands to lock the computer with her own self-generated password before joining the rest as they headed for the elevators.

* * *

><p>Albert, Erwin, and Dogmeat couldn't but notice the battle that was going on at the old exposition center. It was difficult to tell who was winning. What was certain was that ammunition was starting to dwindle. The earlier explosions of rockets and grenades as well as the high-pitched whirring of gatling weapons had grown more infrequent and sporadic. Now it was all laser weapons and rifle fire. If the battle kept up, both sides would probably end up having to continue the fight at close range.<p>

But whatever the outcome, Albert, Erwin, and Dogmeat's destination was further west, past the battleground. Above all, they had to find a way to destroy the Vats or it wouldn't matter who won here.

Taking a wide berth around the scene, the three of them continued on their way to the military base.

* * *

><p>Marcus stepped out of cover for a moment longer than he would have otherwise dared, scanning the surroundings with his night vision binoculars. He pulled back as a sniper tried to put a bullet in his head.<p>

Movement back the way his and Vanders' forces had come caught his eye and he raised his night vision viewer again, this time, casting his vision back in the direction of the base.

'That's odd,' he mused as he spotted a Brotherhood paladin, a knight, and a dog in the distance heading west in the direction of the FEV production control facility.

Another sniper round got close, splintering pieces of wood from the large oak he had been sheltering behind. Marcus gave a grunt of irritation, snatched up his laser rifle and tried to locate the sniper. He caught the barely visible glimmer of a laser sight as it passed through a cloud of debris, corrected the alignment of his rifle, and fired a high-energy laser beam directly into the head of one of the Brotherhood paladins. The beam cut directly through the paladin's visor, killing him instantly. Marcus pulled back behind cover again as more gunfire came close to his position.

Something wasn't right about all this. These Brotherhood soldiers had come in force, but their numbers were still too small to do any real damage to the entire super mutant army. They must have known this. And why choose this place for an ambush, barely a mile away from the base itself? Unless they were completely incompetent and hadn't done any reconnaissance at all, there was no way they could have missed the base. They knew it was there. There presence here had to be for some other reason…

Marcus reached for his short-range radioset.

'Vanders. You still alive?' he called.

'One moment,' came the voice on the other end amidst the sound of gunfire. Ten seconds later, Vanders came back over the airwaves. 'One of them got in close,' came the explanation.

'I spotted some of them heading west. I think they're moving towards the base.'

'Then they're in for a rude surprise. Our guys back home will cut them a new one.'

'I think this fight here might just be diversion. We should pull back to the base.'

A grenade exploded somewhere nearby. Marcus fired blindly around the side of his tree to discourage any would-be humans from advancing on his position, then took a few strides to another less-damaged copse of trees.

'You must be joking,' said Vanders. 'They're tiring. We can win this. If we head back now, they'll be taking potshots at us all the way home.'

'There's something more to it,' Marcus insisted.

'Whatever it is, it can wait,' Vanders replied. 'There's no way a handful of humans can bludgeon their way into Mariposa. Besides, the Lieutenant is in there.'

'I still think I should go back.'

'No. If you leave, the humans will flank my squad and hit it in the rear. I need you where you are. That's an order. Do you copy?'

Marcus gritted his teeth in frustration, recalling that it wasn't too long ago that Vanders had been the one so shocked by the ambush that he hadn't been able to issue effective orders. Why did he have to pick _this_ moment to regain his confidence and assertiveness? Still, an order was an order. The Unity demanded it and Marcus wasn't about to break that central tenet. 'Got it,' he acknowledged reluctantly, and turned his attention back to the fighting.

* * *

><p>By the time Natalia and the rest descended to the prison wing, the effects of Jennifer's hacking had already become impressively evident. The force fields were still down and they could hear the sounds of fighting from all over. As they made their way to the cells, sprawled bodies of both super mutants and sentry robots littered their path. Black oil and red blood mixed together freely on the walls and floor. And the fighting was still going on.<p>

They came across a few super mutants along the way, stragglers headed to where the fighting between the robots and the other mutants was most intense. But, to the mutants, the sudden appearance of several heavily armed Brotherhood soldiers caught them by surprise and none of them managed to fire off more than a few wild shots before they were taken down.

When the infiltration team finally got to the cell block, there was no one there. Or at least, that was what they thought until they had just passed the first six cells on the way to Alex's. One of the doors they had passed opened and a super mutant stepped out brandishing a minigun in one hand and a ripper in the other.

Catching Dan from behind, he stuck the vibroblade deep into the microfusion pack in the back of his armor. With his suit disabled, Dan could do nothing as the mutant replaced the ripper with the six spinning barrels of his minigun and let loose with a hundred bullets that tore up the remainder of the pack along with Dan's spine and midsection.

Acting quickly, Schuster dropped his rocket launcher as he closed the distance to the super mutant, yanked Dan's body away with one free hand, and used the power fist in his other to connect with the super mutant's head.

The impact was impressive, more even than Natalia had expected based on what she had read about the glove's specifications. The super mutant was knocked back several feet and by the time he hit the ground, half of his face had caved in from the impact.

Jennifer had reached Dan in the mean time. She removed his helmet but it was clear he was already dead.

'Fuck…' she said, her voice cracking a little. It had been so sudden. They all knew they had let their guard down, not checking each cell before moving on. But how could they have known one of the cell doors had been unlocked to conceal a mutant specifically waiting in ambush for them to arrive? He must have somehow known they were coming or perhaps expected that they would come here once the robots started going haywire.

The door next to the one the mutant had emerged from slid silently open. Everyone raised their weapons, not wanting to be taken by surprise a second time. Instead they were surprised by a sight none of them had been expecting.

A young woman emerged from the cell. She glanced at them, then at the dead mutant, and then, to their astonishment, cried out in dismay at the sight of the fallen creature.

'No, no, no, no…' she moaned as she ran towards the mutant's body, throwing her arms around his unmoving shoulders and sobbing into his chest. She remained that way for more than a few long seconds, but when she turned to face them again, her tear-filled eyes were filled with hate. 'You… you killed him!' she screamed at them.

'But he's… a mutant!' Schuster said in disbelief.

She turned her anger towards him. 'You didn't have to kill him!' she sobbed as she launched herself at Schuster, hammering harmlessly against the chest plates of his power armor. 'You didn't have to kill him!' she repeated, with less venom this time and more anguish.

Schuster didn't know how to react, still thoroughly taken by surprise. The rest were no less shocked but Jennifer was the first to respond.

'I don't have time for this bullshit!' she said heatedly as she strode up to Schuster and the woman and grabbed her roughly by the arm, pulling her off her commanding officer. She twisted the woman's arm harshly so she was forced to face Dan's body. 'You see that!' Jennifer shouted. 'You see him?! That mutant freak you're so fond of killed him first! Shot him in the back like a _fucking _coward! I don't know what your deal is, woman, but that monster deserved to die. And if you know he was waiting to ambush us, then maybe so do you!' She flung the woman hard, throwing her off her feet and slamming her into the wall.

The woman yelped in pain. Her eyes wide with terror, she backpedalled across the floor as Jennifer advanced amidst her own rage and anguish at having lost a good friend of hers.

'Stop! Leave me alone. Leave me alone!' the woman sobbed, clutching her injured arm with her other hand.

'Leave her,' Schuster said quietly, catching Jennifer by the shoulder before she could make it all the way to the woman. 'She _is_ still a human, after all.'

Jennifer glared at Schuster but relented. 'Keep an eye on her,' she said, before walking over to the cell where Alex was housed. 'Can you get it open?' she asked Natalia.

'I'll try,' said Natalia, fishing out her electronic lockpicks again. 'You might want to try the mutant as well. He might have a pass card or something.'

Jennifer headed back over to the corpse but the woman, who was still sitting on the floor near the mutant's body, glared sullenly at Jennifer and spoke. 'You won't find him in there,' she said bitterly.

'Why not?' Jennifer demanded. When the woman didn't answer, Jennifer stepped closer and glowered at the woman. 'Why. Not?' she repeated, her voice icy and dangerous.

The woman's next words turned everyone's blood cold. 'He's being taken to the Vats for dipping,' she said.

'How do we get there?' Jennifer demanded. She pulled out her side arm, leapt down to where the woman was seated, and shoved the barrel of the gun against the woman's head. 'HOW?!' she bellowed. 'Tell me or I'll blow your _fucking _brains out all over this wall until you look even uglier than that piece of shit you care so much about!'

'Jennifer,' both Natalia and Tycho said at the same time, their tone understanding but firm. 'Take it easy,' Tycho continued. 'She's just lost someone too.'

'That…. _thing_… isn't "someone",' Jennifer said, pointing at the mutant's body with her pistol.

'It's on the level below this, west side of the complex,' said the woman quietly.

'Let's move,' said Schuster.

'We can't just leave her here,' said Jennifer. 'She's obviously one of them. She'll just tell them we're coming.'

'We can't kill her either,' Schuster insisted.

'No, but we can make sure she doesn't cause any problems.' Jennifer walked over to the woman, who cringed at her approach. Yanking her up roughly by her arm, Jennifer strong-armed her back into the cell from which she came, shut the door, and activated the external locks. 'We'll come back once this is over… _If _there's time,' said Jennifer, then strode off, leading the way back to the elevators.


	35. Chapter 34: The Vats

**Chapter Thirty-Four: The Vats**

When Albert, Erwin, and Dogmeat arrived at the military base, a sight of utter chaos was not what they had been expecting. Dead super mutant bodies were scattered around the parking lot within the perimeter fence of the complex. Interspersed with the mutant corpses were the bullet-ridden and burnt out hulls of robots armed with various forms of weaponry. These robots – each equipped with their flattened dome-shaped heads, two flexible mechanical arms, and a pair of mini-bulldozer threads – were identical to the ones Albert and Alex had faced in the Glow.

Something had gone very wrong here, at least for the mutants. For Albert and Erwin, it was perfect. They headed straight down the main ramp and into the first lower level of the facility without anyone trying to stop them.

Their progress was so smooth, in fact, that when they first came across three super mutants who had survived the battle with the robotic security, it was almost too late to retrace their steps and find a different route in. Fortunately for them, the mutants were too exhausted from fighting for their lives and did not see the intruders backtrack the way they had come.

Finding a different path, they wandered the corridors till, after following the printed directions at every junction, they eventually reached the elevators.

'Where do we go?' Erwin asked as Albert reached for the buttons.

'When in doubt, always head to the very bottom,' said Albert, speaking from experience. The doors shut and the elevator cart silently began to descend.

'So how's the suit working for you?' Erwin asked to break the silence as they descended.

'I still don't have great precision with my movements,' Albert replied, 'but at least I've stopped crashing into objects.'

'No kidding,' Erwin said, remembering the first hour after leaving the staging area.

'In the close confines of the corridors in this place, it shouldn't matter too much,' said Albert as he checked that a round was chambered into his AK-112.

'One other thing you might like to take into consideration,' said Erwin. 'That suit your wearing is one of the older models. Alex found out that all the suits have a weak spot where the power pack's located.' Erwin tapped a small compartment of the TX-28 microfusion power pack that was attached to the back of Albert's armor. 'Anyone hits that and you'll be paralyzed – stuck in your suit until someone either takes you back to the workshop or somehow manages to pry open the suit.'

'Good thing I have you and Dogmeat to watch my back, then,' said Albert.

They reached the lowest level but as they emerged from the elevator doors, their hearts sank. While all the energy fields on the upper floors had been deactivated thanks to Jennifer's hacking, this floor ran on its own independent power grid. Everything was still operational here.

'What now?' asked Erwin. 'Can we just shoot the emitters?'

Albert shook his head. 'That might trigger another alarm or, who knows, maybe even a failsafe detonation of some sort.' Albert looked at the control panel by the side of the field that barred the doorway. 'This has been loosened,' he commented, reaching for the panel's metal covering. The casing fell open easily. 'Natalia's team's been through here,' he said.

* * *

><p>Reaching the control room overlooking the FEV Vats had been a slow process since the energy fields on this floor were apparently controlled independently of the rest of the complex. That meant that they had to go back to relying on Natalia's electronic lockpicks to temporarily disable all the energy fields in their way. Fortunately, the robots on this floor had suffered Jennifer's reprogramming, so the infiltration team met with less mutant resistance than they would have otherwise. The rest of the mutants were either dead, injured, or fighting off the remainder of the robots.<p>

Even so, the mutants on this floor had been more heavily armed and armored and by the time the team made it to the Vats control room, they had expended most of their ammunition. Schuster's rocket launcher, Dan's minigun (which Jennifer had taken over), and Tycho's two submachine guns were now running on empty, forcing both Schuster and Jennifer to switch to their laser weapons.

Jennifer was still distraught over Dan's recent passing and frantic at the thought of being too late to save Alex. Still channeling her frustration and grief into rage, the first thing she had done, when Natalia got them through the force field blocking access to the control room, was to immediately execute all eight Children of the Cathedral technicians before they could so much as attempt to flee. Natalia had balked at the brutal efficiency with which Jennifer had cleared the room without even a moment's hesitation, but that reaction faltered as soon as they all caught a glimpse of what was going on outside the viewing windows of the control room.

The space beyond the control room was enormous, and for good reason. Three gigantic cylindrical Vats, each at least six storeys high, filled up most of the space, their tops open to reveal their contents: the luminescent green liquid responsible for creating hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of super mutants over the years. The base of each vat was lit by large red floor-mounted floodlights that gave the Vats a demonic glow, as if the massive containers had risen out of the very infernal depths of hell. Situated right at the highest point in the room, in line with the ceiling, the control room commanded the perfect view of the tops of each of the Vats, along with the multilevel network of catwalks that spanned the room. And right in the center of the room, atop a platform in the middle of the network of catwalks, was a human-sized automated crane – the device the mutants used to dip their willing or unwilling converts into the FEV. A single computer terminal was wired to the crane to control its rotation and the retraction and extension of its heavy duty winch cable.

A small group of half a dozen mutants had gathered near the crane. The largest mutant –with large brass-colored metal shoulder pads, a glowing red spherical eyepiece attached over his right eye, and some kind of portable energy generator secured to his back – was standing by the computer controls. Lined up in a row by his feet were five human-sized figures wrapped up in cloth from head to foot, like mummies except for the fact that they were desperate struggling against their bonds. The five other super mutants were strapping what looked like oxygen tanks and masks to the bound human figures.

'They're preparing to dip them,' Schuster said needlessly.

'We have to stop them,' Jennifer said, perhaps more to herself than anyone else, as she moved to the door that led out to the catwalks. But no sooner had she opened the door than she found her path obstructed by yet another yellow energy barrier. 'Natalia!' she called.

Natalia immediately fished out her lockpicks and began working on the door.

In the meantime, Jennifer began exploring the other computer terminals in the room. After perusing the directories and diagnostics of several terminals, she finally settled on one and got to work. 'How close are you?' she asked Natalia as she began hammering away at the keyboard.

'Two or three minutes,' came the reply. 'Why?'

'I've found the security hub for this level,' Jennifer said. 'If it's anything like the one on the first floor, I should be able to bring down the entire barrier network. Should make our flight from this place much easier once we figure out the self-destruct mechanism.'

While she worked, Tycho tested the window gently with the butt of his shotgun. 'Reinforced Plexiglas,' he said. 'No way we can take them out from here – not by surprise, at least. Can we use the explosives you brought?'

Schuster shook his head. 'They aren't shaped charges. We'd end up destroying all the computers in the room at the same time.'

'I've got an interface screen,' Jennifer declared. 'I'm going to try to deactivate all the fields on this level.'

Schuster walked back over from the window to where Jennifer was hard at work. But as he did so he paused at the computer just next to it – the one Jennifer hadn't yet gotten the opportunity to examine.

'This is… This is the master Vats Control computer,' he said in amazement.

'See if you can find a way to remotely close the lids on the Vats,' said Jennifer without looking away from her work.

Schuster fiddled with the commands for half a minute.

'Well?' Jennifer asked, again without looking up.

'Can't,' said Schuster. 'The mechanism on one of the Vats is jammed for some reason.'

'Can you find anything on an emergency purge of the facility? A self-dstruct of some sort?'

Schuster spent another half a minute searching. 'I think it requires some kind of encryption decoder key of some sort,' he said eventually.

'Hey, guys,' said Tycho, as he continued looking out the window at the mutants. 'I think I know why the mechanism on the third Vat's jammed. The crane's positioned right over it… They're dipping someone inside it right now!'

Jennifer looked up. Even though her helmet was on, everyone knew the look of panic that must have crossed her features at that moment. Her fingers worked even faster than before.

'It may not be him,' Schuster tried to reassure her.

'How big is the slot for the encryption key?' Tycho asked, seemingly out of the blue, even as he continued staring out the window.

Schuster seemed confused but glanced down at the slot nonetheless. 'About five inches by half an inch. Why?'

'I think I may also know where the encryption decoder key is,' Tycho continued. 'It's sticking out of the side of that computer controlling the crane.'

'Shit,' Schuster swore quietly.

'Got it!' Jennifer declared suddenly. The yellow barrier Natalia had been working on vanished, as did every other field on the level. Instantly, Natalia had activated her Stealth Boy's cloaking field and was out the doorway. Jennifer followed quickly behind, securing her metal gloves which she had had to remove to use the computer. Both went out guns blazing, Jennifer with her laser rifle and Natalia with Alex's turbo-charged plasma rifle.

'Be careful not to hit the encryption key or the prisoners!' Tycho yelled as he raced after them with Schuster close behind.

Out on the catwalk, two of the mutants got hit even before they realized intruders had gotten through the energy barrier. Jennifer's laser rifle managed to slice through part of the first mutants head, shearing off a chunk of his scalp and ear, but it wasn't enough to bring him down. The plasma rifle in the meantime, scored two hits directly into the second mutant's chest. The first melted away the metal plates covering his chest. The second liquefied his chest and every organ housed in the upper part of his thoracic cavity. The other super mutants stopped what they were doing and scrambled for their weapons. The largest one – the Lieutenant himself – calmly left the computer's controls and drew his six-barreled gatling laser weapon from its moorings at the side of the metallic energy pack connected to his back.

As soon as he joined the fight, the tides turned. With no where on the upper catwalks to find cover, Jennifer, Schuster, and Tycho were forced down the metal staircases to the lower catwalks at the mid-level of the FEV containers. Spreading out, they found shelter behind separate Vats. Now they were at a lower elevation than the mutants. It made it much more difficult to fire at the mutants without accidentally hitting the human captives, but at least they were no longer in the direct line of fire of the super mutants' weapons. Natalia, meanwhile, remained on the upper catwalks, relying on her cloaking field to circle around the space of the room so she could attack the mutants from the rear.

As the super mutants temporarily lost visual contact with their targets, there came a lull in the exchange of gunfire. The super mutants began fanning out on the upper level, hoping to relocate to different vantage points where they might get a clearer line of sight to the intruders on the lower level.

'Well, I'm _quite _impressed,' said the deep, rumbling, crisp voice of the Lieutenant of the mutant armies, his every word perfectly clipped and enunciated. The calm in his voice was unsettling to the members of the infiltration team. He turned slowly as he spoke, trying to locate them. The red orb over his right eye darted to and fro, moving independently of his other good eye as it sought any kind of motion on the lower catwalk levels. 'My spies told me you were resourceful,' he continued to speak, 'but they seemed to have underestimated your talents… Natalia.'

With that last word, he turned sharply back to the upper level of the catwalks, the red orb focusing exactly at the spot where Natalia, with her cloaking field engaged, stood.

'He can see her,' Tycho cursed in shock.

The Lieutenant's gatling laser spun to life. Natalia had only enough time to fire off two wild shots from the plasma rifle before the laser beams were peppering the catwalk floor beneath her. The grating under her feet lurched and suddenly, with a cry, she was falling.

'Natalia!' Tycho yelled, leaping from cover and firing semi-aimed shots as he rushed to her aid.

Natalia fell almost twenty feet and crashed onto the catwalks below with another cry of pain. With the Stealth Boy damaged in the fall, her cloaking field flickered and died. She tried to get back to her feet but the sharp and blinding pain that shot up through her right leg told her it had likely broken in the fall.

'Guards,' said the Lieutenant. 'Capture her. Kill the rest. And make a call to everyone on this level. Tell them _all _to make their way here immediately.'

The gunfire started all over again.

* * *

><p>Albert was just about to consider trying to destroy the field generators on either side of the doorway when the gentle humming of the emitters faded and the barrier abruptly vanished.<p>

'They must have taken it down,' Albert concluded. 'Let's go!'

They burst out into the elevator lobby and found it covered in blood and robotic transmission fluid, as well as body parts belonging both to mutants and security robots. It seemed that whatever chaos had struck the upper floors had reached this level was well.

'There!' Erwin said, picking out a wall-mounted map of the level amidst the blood stains. The two of them walked over.

They had just located the Vats control room when a pair of super mutants on patrol, armed with laser weapons appeared from around the corner. The mutants looked as surprised as Albert and Erwin felt.

'Looks like we've found the troublemakers at last,' said the larger of the two.

Before they could react, the PA system to the entire level crackled to life. Over the sound of gunfire being exchanged, they heard a mutant give a general call to all the super mutants: 'All personnel on level 6, report to the Vats immediately. The second vault dweller has been located. The Lieutenant has ordered her immediate capture.'

For a moment, no one in the elevator lobby reacted. Then the larger mutant made his move. 'Jonah. Go!' he barked to the other mutant, even as he reached for his weapon.

'Erwin, Dogmeat. Stop him!' Albert yelled. 'I'll handle this one then join you there.'

Without time to think, Erwin leapt into action, chasing after the fleeing mutant. Dogmeat bolted past him. There was no way Dogmeat would be able to take down the mutant on his own, but perhaps he could slow him down long enough for Erwin to prevent him from calling for reinforcements.

While Erwin and Dogmeat gave chase, Albert stood alone in the lobby facing-off a mutant who stood a foot taller than himself even with his power armor. The mutant glowered at Albert. 'You'll "handle this one"? You have quite the gumption, human.'

Albert tried to remain calm even as his heart thumped loudly in his chest. He eyed the mutant's laser weapon. They were standing just close enough that using rifles would be cumbersome.

Albert decided there was just no time to find cover. Without wasting another moment, Albert dropped his rifle and launched himself at his larger adversary. He knocked the barrel of the mutant's laser rifle away and swung at the mutant's head with his free arm. The power fist over his left glove crackled with energy.

* * *

><p>Natalia was in bad shape. Tycho had already administered a stimpak into her bloodstream but a broken leg wasn't something that was easily fixed. In addition, three short laser beams from the Lieutenant's gatling laser had gone through Natalia's upper left thigh and midsection, likely cutting through part of her intestines and left kidney. Those were things the chemical concoction in the stimpak could significantly alleviate, but it would still take time. And time wasn't something they had just then.<p>

'Everything's… everything's…' she tried to speak. Tycho wiped the sweat that was beading all over her neck and forehead as she struggled with the pain.

'Don't talk,' he said.

One of the super mutants that had made it down to the lower level emerged from around the corner of the nearest Vat. With clear orders to take Natalia alive, the mutant dared not fire her weapon. Tycho had no such obligation. He fired three slugs from his combat shotgun. They were not enough to kill the mutant, but they were enough to knock her off balance, over the edge of the catwalk, and to the ground level far below where she broke her neck from the impact.

'Everything's connected…' Natalia continued weakly. 'To the mutant's pack.' She pointed up towards where the Lieutenant stood guard over the computer controlling the crane, the human captives, and the encryption key. 'His weapon, his red sensor-eye… even those wires sticking into the back of his skull… they're all connected.'

Tycho looked up in surprise at the Lieutenant, amazed that Natalia had somehow managed to observe all those details amidst her pain. And as he looked, he realized that she was right. The only problem was that the Lieutenant kept turning as he tried to get a bearing on Jennifer and Shuster who, themselves, were busy running all over the lower catwalks, exchanging fire with the other mutants as they did so.

'You need to distract him,' said Natalia. 'Hand me… hand me my rifle.'

'You need me here,' Tycho insisted.

'Don't… argue,' she insisted weakly.

Tycho reluctantly complied with her wishes, reaching over to where her plasma rifle had fallen and setting it in her hands.

'Get him to turn so his back's facing this direction,' she said.

'Are you… sure you're up to this?' Tycho asked, more concerned for her wellbeing than he had ever been.

'Trust me,' she said. 'Just give me five seconds to line up a shot.'

'Five?' Tycho was surprised.

'Okay, six,' she corrected herself. 'Now go.'

'Are you going to be—'

'Go!' she insisted with sudden force in her voice.

Tycho got moving.

* * *

><p>Albert reached the door to the Vats control room, mutant blood dripping from his power fist and from the face and chestplate of his armor where it had splattered from the repeated pummeling Albert had given the mutant. This armor was something else. Never in his entire life would he have thought he would be able to go one-on-one with a super mutant. Yet not only had he survived the close combat encounter, but he had also escaped with nothing more than a couple of dents in his armor and a few bruises. Some were bad and would take days, maybe even weeks to heal on their own, but considering how his opponent had fared, that was nothing worth complaining about.<p>

Bursting into the control room, Albert found Erwin sitting at the side of the doorway, his back resting against the wall. The visor on his helmet had shattered and, even against the dark green of his combat armor, Albert could see the blood stains. Some of it had to be Erwin's; Albert could already see some of the bullet holes in various parts of the armor.

Dogmeat sat faithfully beside Erwin, standing guard even though he himself looked like he had taken a beating. Erwin's hand rested weakly on Dogmeat's back; his head was slouched on his chest. Lying not far from the both of them was not one but two super mutant corpses. Erwin's assault rifle lay beside the corpses, its chamber and magazine empty, the barrel bent and the handgrip cracked. Erwin's laser pistol sat in his lap.

Dogmeat recognized his adopted master even in the armor and walked over to him with a slight limp.

'Good boy,' Albert said, cursing himself silently for having sent both of them after what had turned out to be more resistance than they had counted on.

Erwin gasped suddenly. His left hand snatched for the laser pistol.

'It's me,' Albert said quickly, his voice filled with relief that Erwin wasn't dead.

'Two more!' Erwin yelled suddenly. With a sudden jerk, he tried to rise to his feet, but groaned in pain and slumped back down against the wall.

'Rest,' Albert insisted, gently resisting Erwin's further, albeit weakened, attempts to stand.

'Two more mutants made it into the testing room,' Erwin gasped.

'I'll go,' said Albert. 'You stay here and… guard the doorway.' Albert removed one of the three stimpaks he had left and injected it into Erwin's shoulder after removing the cracked shoulder pad. Albert turned to Dogmeat. 'Guard him till I get back,' he said.

Secretly, he hoped there were no mutants left on the rest of the level. He didn't think Erwin or Dogmeat were in any condition to defend themselves. But he had no choice. He could clearly hear the generous exchange of weapons' fire through the open doorway that led to the catwalks beyond. Bringing either Dogmeat or Erwin out there would be suicide for them. At least they had a chance in here.

Albert picked up his assault rifle and exited the control room through the doorway to the catwalks.

* * *

><p>While Jennifer and Shuster had been busy with the other super mutants, including the two more who had responded to the Lieutenant's summons, Tycho had tried to reach the Lieutenant without getting spotted. To do that, he had had to leave Natalia's side, go all the way to the ground level, cross the entire floor, then ascend back up to the second level where a single access ladder ascended directly to where the crane was located. Slowly and quietly, he began climbing.<p>

He was nearing the top and thought he had made it without being noticed when he heard the distinct ringing of metal as bullets ricocheted off the metal bars below him. He turned to see a super mutant on the other end of the catwalk opposite from him aiming his assault rifle in an attempt to shoot him off the ladder. Tycho suspected that the only reason he hadn't been hit was because the weapon hadn't been designed for mutant hands. The mutant's fingers were too large and the weapon was, on the whole, too small for the giant. Still, the mutant was clearly trained and it would only be a matter of time until…

A beam of laser cut across from another end of the catwalks on the lower level. It cut through the mutant's neck, then went up into the middle of his head. The mutant staggered and fell back off the catwalk to the ground far below. Tycho spared a glance at the source of his aid and realized it was Schuster who had kept the trigger on his laser rifle depressed until the weapon had overheated.

Unfortunately, his attempt to save Tycho not only meant that his weapon was temporarily unusable but also that he had just given away his position. The Lieutenant spotted him and open up with his gatling laser.

Having already suffered cumulative damage to his armor from dozens of bullets and laser beams that had scored hits, the plating on his armor finally gave way. Four of the rapidly fired laser beams pierced through his battered armor and struck the unprotected flesh beneath. Schuster cried out in pain, lost his balance, and fell over the edge to his death.

'DAMMIT!' Tycho yelled in frustration as he leapt to his feet on the catwalk and advanced towards the Lieutenant, firing round after round from his shotgun directly into the Lieutenant's right side. But although Tycho could see the damage being done, the Lieutenant didn't offer so much as a flinch of pain. He staggered just the slightest bit from the impact of the 12-gauge rounds, but when Tycho's weapon ran dry, the Lieutenant easily regained his balance and turned to face his latest attacker.

_Come on! _Tycho thought silently to Natalia as he watched the Lieutenat turn the weapon towards him.

The sound of the plasma bolt was unmistakable as it suddenly burst from the chamber of Natalia's weapon. It hit the power pack attached to the Lieutenat's back from across the room, causing a small explosion in the pack. The Lieutenant grunted in frustration and what might have been some small degree of pain. But it wasn't enough.

Realizing that his attacker had figured out a weakness in his armor, the Lieutenant began to turn back towards Natalia's position. And judging by how his weapon was turning as well, Tycho guessed the Lieutenant might have reassessed his earlier intention to capture Natalia alive.

With no time to reload his own weapon, Tycho did the only thing he could think of. Sprinting towards the Lieutenant, he leapt onto the mutant's back, using his own combat knife to stab at the wires connecting the metal pack to Lieutenant's spine and the back of his head.

Tycho had only managed to sever two of the wires when he felt the Lieutenant's giant fingers clamp themselves around his neck and shoulders. In the next moment, he felt a forceful tug that threw him from his perch. Before he knew it, he was soaring through the air.

'Tycho!' Natalia yelled in horror as she watched him get tossed like a ragdoll. As he hit the edge of the catwalk and slid over the side, Natalia's heart caught in her throat. But at the very last moment, his hand found its grip on the edge and he jerked to a halt, dangling by one hand over a sixty-foot drop.

It was still not over. Natalia tried to line up another shot as the Lieutenant approached the edge where Tycho was hanging on for dear life. There was no way she could score another hit to the mutant's back but at least it might distract him long enough for Tycho to get out of the way.

There was only a slim chance of success and Natalia knew it. The Lieutenant had cut Tycho off from any escape. Even if he managed to climb back up to the catwalk, there would be nowhere to run except maybe to jump into the nearest Vat, which would be tantamount to suicide.

Natalia was about to pull the trigger anyway when she heard another burst of gunfire, this one coming from directly behind the Lieutenant. It was the sound of a conventional semi-automatic weapon being fired. But who among them had assault weapons? Tycho had lost his shotgun when he attacked the Lieutenant at close range and Jennifer, still fending off two mutants, had her laser rifle. No one had a 5mm assault rifle except…

Albert never released his finger from the trigger as he unloaded the entire magazine into the mutant leader's back even as he advanced towards him. It was clear the assault rifle wasn't doing any significant damage to this particularly large mutant, but at least it would distract him.

And distract him it did. The Lieutenant turned to face him, his face a mask of anger. He pulled the trigger on his gatling laser even before fully aligning his shots. The laser began cutting up part of the catwalk as he shifted his aim towards where Albert was standing. Albert turned to take evasive actions, not knowing if he would be able to dodge a gatling weapon on full auto.

But that one moment of distraction was the perfect opportunity Natalia had been waiting for. She inhaled, held her breath, then fired two quick bolts into the Lieutenant's back. Both hit their mark. The first destroyed the outer hull of the energy pack, the second obliterated the circuits within.

What Natalia hadn't realized, however, was that the pack was not only the power hub for the Lieutenant's cybernetic eye and gatling laser. It was also the life support system that kept his organs functioning – an unfortunate necessity to maintain the additional upgrades that the Master himself had helped effect in the Lieutenant's body. Thanks to further mutations that had been added over time, the Lieutenant had grown stronger, tougher, and larger than even the strongest of the mutants, save perhaps the Master himself. But a body that was stronger, tougher, and larger required a constant powerful source of centripetal energy that only cybernetics could provide. Now, with that machine destroyed, there was nothing to stop the Lieutenant's body from turning on itself.

With a flash of sparks and a plume of smoke, the energy pack on the Lieutenant's back exploded. It triggered a quick chain reaction resulting in a smaller explosion in the back of the Lieutenant's head. The blow caused him to stagger and fall forward on one knee from the sheer force of it. Dropping his weapon, the Lieutenant clutched his stomach as he felt the pressure building rapidly from within. His blood raced faster and faster, boiling in his very veins. Albert, Natalia and the rest could only stare in fascinated horror at what came next.

In a sudden involuntary jerk and a roar of intense pain, pieces of the Lieutenant's body began bursting out of their normal physical confines from his limbs and his body, spraying blood and fragments of bio-organic pulp all over the catwalk. Chunks of flesh went flying in all directions. More mini-detonations erupted in his brain. He clutched his head as if it would help contain the agony but it only grew worse. In another series of violent spasms, blood spurted from every orifice on his face. His body jerked again and this time one of his arms burst apart from its socket, flying off the edge of the catwalk and into one of the Vats.

The spasms grew worse, now wracking the Lieutenant's entire body in what appeared to be seizures of some sort. Then, far too audibly, the Lieutenants innards exploded outwards in a continuous shower of half-liquefied biomass, his body spasming with each gush.

But it didn't stop there.

As torrents of blood continued spraying out from his midsection, the Lieutenant's body actually seemed to shrivel before the eyes of Albert, Natalia and the rest. Since that part of the catwalk had been constructed of solid metal, the liquefied biomass began to pool in a horrendous crimson puddle. The Lieutenant fell to his knees, the spasms growing weaker. As the last muscular contraction wracked his body, he collapsed forward, face first into his own blood and melted organs.

And then finally, it was all over.

Staring at the remains of the Lieutenant, Albert was reminded of all he had witnessed in the Corridor back in the Master's lair. But whatever terrible things he had seen FEV do, both to the human mind and to human physiology, this was far, far worse. It seemed, then, that the horrors of FEV were not restricted only to humans, as he had been assuming all the while. Rather, it seemed that FEV had its own horrors in store for the very creatures it had produced.

While everyone was still stunned by what they had just witnessed, however, Jennifer, having dealt with the remainder of the super mutant guards, was racing for the computer controlling the crane. She reached the controls and hit the commands to retract the thick cable that extended vertically down into the nearest Vat. As the winch slowly started retracting the cable, she moved quickly over to the captives and began ripping off the oxygen masks that covered their cloth-bound faces, looking for the one that belonged to Alex. While Tycho ran back over to Natalia's aid, Albert shook himself from his stupor and helped Jennifer free the captives.

Each mask and cloth covering that was removed revealed a frightened and exhausted but relieved human face. Jennifer finally got to the last captive but no familiar face presented itself.

'No… please no,' she said with growing panic and a deep sinking feeling in her gut.

Standing where they were on the catwalk, both Albert and Jennifer suddenly heard movement behind them. The cable had retracted just enough for them to see the top of a head. But it was a large head – too large for an ordinary human. Torn pieces of sopping wet strips of cloth dangled from the thing's head. As the face came into view, they could see, even through the gas mask that was still plastered over its nose and mouth, that it was the face of a super mutant. The transformation was complete. What now hung from the cable was no longer human. Alex… was no longer human.

* * *

><p>END OF CHAPTER<p>

So... I've started to realize a trend in how I've written up Natalia's part of the story. She tends to go in strong, make a big impact, and then inevitably end up getting injured. While I don't believe in incorporating gender egalitarianism purely for the sake of political correctness, this does strike me as a little silly. I guess I am influenced by masculinity norms after all. Fortunately, my next two anticipated novelizations have strong female leads to counter-balance this potentially one-sided approach. That's my self-conscious rant for today.

On another note, I think there should be about 3 more chapters till the end (and this time, I think that's a fair estimate).


	36. Chapter 35: Resolution

Whoa. That last chapter got over a hundred hits/views in 2 days. I'm positive that has never happened before. Well, because of such a positive response, I got motivated and decided to crank out this last chapter before Christmas. Who knows, I may even get to the next one before then. Still an anticipated 2 chapters to go, people.

And, on a related subject... where did my fellow Singaporean reader base just sprout up from all of a sudden? You people just reached the position of second highest country in terms of number of views this month. So weird. Not that I'm complaining. I just find it fascinating is all.

Anyway, here you go. Enjoy (I hope).

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Resolution**

Once his body had been hoisted out of the FEV Vat, the crane then rotated on its base to deposit the hulking, mutated body of Alex onto the platform at the center of the catwalks. The machine lowered him slowly to the ground where he lay slumped, unconscious. Everyone was silent. They had their hands on their weapons, but none of the firearms were raised. This was Alex after all… or was it?

Albert stood closest. He still couldn't believe what he was seeing. For added verification, he removed his helmet so that he could look upon the mutant's face with his own eyes and not through the power armor's optics. Jennifer did likewise. Albert walked slowly over to the mutant and reached out to roll the body over to its side so he could get a better look.

The mutant reacted, lashing out at Albert's outstretched hand. Albert leapt back, his rifle raised. Everyone did likewise, though Jennifer was slowest to react.

Slowly, the mutant rolled over till he was on all fours. He paused for several long seconds, noticing his mutated hands for the first time. It seemed as though his body heaved with a great sigh. Then the large head turned and spotted the Lieutenant's body lying in a large pool of blood just a few feet away. He crawled laboriously over until he was looking at his own reflection.

He remained in that position for several long seconds, his eyes wide with disbelief, his fingers running over the enlarged features of his face. The more he stared, the more his shoulders heaved with deeper, more distressed breaths until, suddenly, he was wailing loudly in anguish at what he had become. Even his voice had changed, changed to the low and deep rumbling of a super mutant's voice. When his cry finally ended, Alex remained motionless in the same position on his hands and knees.

He stayed that way until Albert finally decided to rouse him from his grief. 'Alex,' he said.

Slowly, Alex raised his head until he was finally looking at Albert for the first time. To Albert's surprise and dismay, Alex's glance was cold and hard as he visually scanned his audience. But when his gaze finally settled on Jennifer, his expression softened and gave way to a sudden mix of surprise, shame, and regret.

'Jennifer,' he tried to say. Compared to the majority of the other mutants, he had been spared the inconvenience of having his lips growing oversized during the transformation. He seemed to have no apparent need of one of those lip braces to keep his upper lip from blocking his mouth. Nevertheless, as perfectly enunciated as the word was, Alex's voice had changed so much that it was as if a completely different person had called Jennifer's name.

'No…' she moaned, her head slowly shaking from side to side in denial. 'It's not true. It can't be true.'

'Jennifer,' Alex repeated, struggling to get to his feet and reaching out one massive arm to her.

To Jennifer, hearing her name spoken by a super mutant's gravelly voice only served to alienate her even more from the mutant before her. And as Alex rose to his full nine-and-a-half-foot height, Jennifer's eyes only grew wider with fear and disbelief. She took a step back, her weapon falling limply to her side. 'No… No…' she repeated, taking another step back.

'Please. Jennifer,' he said, his hand still reaching for hers.

Jennifer shook her head. Tears sprung to her eyes. 'No… stay back…'

'It's me,' Alex pleaded.

'No!' she shouted and turned away.

'No! Don't go! Come back! _Please_!' he shouted after her with a look of desperation in his eyes, but she was already running.

'I'm sorry!' she sobbed and then was gone.

Alex held out his hand for several more seconds, then let it drop. His cheeks were already wet from his own tears.

'Alex,' said Albert gently, taking a step towards the much larger former human.

Alex turned his glance away from Jennifer's receding form to Albert. By the time he did so, his eyes had grown hard and narrow. 'You didn't come,' he said softly but stonily as he fixed Albert with his steely gaze. 'I held out under all that torture and you never came!' he bellowed. 'You! And you!' He turned his gaze over to Natalia. 'I said nothing about your stupid Vault, I stalled for as long as I could, waiting for you to show up. But _you never came_! And now _look at me_! LOOK AT ME!'

'_Our _Vault,' Albert corrected him, trying to be as calm as possible. 'You saved _our _Vault, Alex.'

'It's not my Vault,' Alex said with a fatalistic tone to his voice. 'Not anymore.'

'No,' Albert argued firmly though there was growing sadness in his voice. 'You can still come back. Come back with us.'

Alex gave a short, bitter laugh. 'I thought you were a better liar than that,' he said. 'You and I both know that will never work.'

'We will _make_ it work,' Albert insisted.

Alex laughed again. 'Don't be a fool, Albert. The woman I love can't even bear to look at me anymore. What hope do I have in a world that hates and fears super mutants?'

'She's just in shock,' Albert tried to reason with him. 'She'll come around eventually.'

Alex shook his head patronizingly. 'She's _afraid _of me, Albert. Just as you are afraid of me.'

'I'm not afraid.'

'Then why are your hands still firmly clutching onto your weapon? Why is your finger still in the trigger guard? You're _all _afraid of me. And you're _right _to be afraid. I'm one of the monsters now.'

'You're _not _a monster!' Natalia shot back at him. 'You're still Alex!'

'Alex died when none of you showed up to rescue him! Alex died when the mutants left him in _that _Vat for hours!' He jabbed his finger in the direction of the Vat he had been pulled out from. 'When I look at my reflection,' he said, 'I don't see Alex. I see a giant mutant brute, created to wage war against all humans and ghouls in the wasteland. You came here to destroy mutants like that, didn't you?! Well, there's one standing right in front of you! So shoot me! SHOOT ME!' His arms were raised, as if welcoming their bullets.

'We are _not_ your enemies!' Albert shouted back at him. Then his voice softened. 'And you are not _our _enemy.'

Alex seemed to calm down from his outburst. 'Maybe not,' he said. 'But you're not my friends.' He turned, so he was facing the three Vats, his back now turned towards them. He closed his eyes, his head lowering to his chest. 'We're done here,' he said. 'Do what you came to do, and leave.'

'Alex, we're going to blow this place up,' Natalia spoke up. 'You need to get out of here with us. We can help you. Whatever challenges you'll face once we're out of here, we'll face them together. We won't leave you, Alex.'

Alex didn't turn around. 'You're already too late.'

'Don't be a fool, man,' Tycho said. 'If you stay here, you'll die. Don't let Jennifer be your one lifeline. Her views aren't the only ones that matter.'

Alex turned so he was looking at them from the corner of his eye. 'You're right, Tycho,' he said. 'But you know what she and I still have in common? We both can't stand to see what I've become.'

'Alex,' Albert said again, taking a step forward.

'Get out of here!' Alex said angrily. When Albert made no move, Alex turned. 'LEAVE ME!' he thundered with such ferocity that Albert took an involuntary step back.

'Okay,' Albert said softly. 'We're going to program the self-destruct – give you some time to yourself. After that we'll come back in to get you.' Before he left, Albert slowed his step to offer one final word. 'I'm sorry we didn't make it in time.'

'You and me both,' Alex said quietly.

* * *

><p>Back in the control room, Albert found Tycho inserting the encryption decoder key into the Vats Control Computer. Dogmeat bounded happily up to Albert as he entered, albeit with a bit of a limp, relieved to see his master was still fine.<p>

'We're almost done here, boy,' Albert said reassuringly scratching the top of Dogmeat's head. Albert shot a glance at Erwin who was on his feet and seemed to be in much better condition than when Albert had left him; the stimpaks had done their work. As for the five human captives they had rescued, they seemed shaken but very relieved that they had escaped the fate that had befallen Alex. 'Take whatever weapons you can find off the bodies,' Albert told them. 'We may face some resistance getting out.' He turned to Tycho. 'Anything?'

'Fortunately, the decryption key works perfectly,' said Tycho. 'Which is a good thing, because I don't know the first thing about computers.'

'Look for an option to purge all the research data and infrastructure.'

'Got it,' said Tycho after a few seconds. 'It's telling me that once we start the countdown, that's it. This purge was designed so no intruder can stop it once it's started.'

'Fifteen minutes should give us plenty of time,' said Albert.

'We'll have to drop by the cell block first,' said Natalia. 'We left one of the prisoners there. Jennifer locked her in one of the cells before we came down here. She was… _with_ the mutants.'

'Speaking of Jennifer…' said Albert.

'She ran past,' said Erwin. 'Didn't even stop to say a word.'

'She's probably on her way out already,' said Natalia.

'Well, for her sake, I hope she isn't dallying around,' said Albert. 'Start the sequ—'

'Hang on a second,' Tycho interrupted him.

'What is it?' asked Albert.

'This terminal has a log recorder function. Seems some rather interesting people have, at various points, used it to keep their own personal diaries here.'

'We don't have time for that now,' said Albert. 'Other mutants in the surrounding area may have heard of the break in. They may already be on their way back. I don't want another horde of mutants waiting for us when we get out of this place. Just start the sequence so we can get out of here.'

'Oh, trust me,' said Tycho, 'This is going to be something you'll want to see. And maybe you too, Erwin.' Erwin looked at Tycho with a mixture and puzzlement and surprise.

'Make a copy of it and then start the countdown sequence,' Albert decided. 'We'll figure it out later.' He freed his PIPBoy from his armored wrist and tossed it to Tycho who plugged it into the machine to download the data.

'What about Alex? We can't just leave him here,' said Natalia.

'Hopefully, the countdown will trigger him into action,' said Albert. 'If not, then…' Albert sighed sadly, temporarily losing his sense of urgency. 'He's right, you know? No one's going to be able to accept him. They'll hate him or they'll fear him. Or both. Either way, no one's going to be willing to take him in.'

'Then _we'll _take him in,' said Natalia. She turned to Tycho for support.

Tycho nodded. 'We'll figure out a way to make it work.'

Albert sighed again. 'I'll try to talk to him again. In the meantime, you start that countdown at twenty minutes.'

While Tycho worked on the computer, Albert headed back out to the catwalks. To his surprise, there was no sign of Alex.

'Alex?' he called, walking further out onto the catwalks. There were only so many places Alex could be. If he wasn't up here on the top floor, then he had to be…

Albert looked down and, sixty feet below at the ground level, he spotted Alex's hulking frame moving slowly around the bases of the Vats, his large hand lazily grazing the surface of each FEV container as he passed it.

'Alex!' Albert called. 'We're about to start the self-destruct. You need to come up here right now.'

'I'm exactly where I need to be, Albert,' came Alex's reply. 'It's fitting, don't you think?'

'What is, Alex?' Albert called down.

'When this place goes up in smoke, all that FEV is going to come crashing down right where I'm standing. Only this time I won't be wearing an oxygen mask. It's like a rewind. It'll be like I was still in that Vat but this time, instead of coming out as a mutant, I drown and never emerge. It'll be like the FEV didn't succeed. It'll be like theydidn't manage to turn me. That's how it should have been from the start, Albert.'

'Alex, don't do this,' said Albert, barely able to keep the emotion out of his voice despite all his training, skill, and experience in the art of persuasion. 'You can still make it out of this with us – start anew.'

'Albert, you're a smart guy. Always have been. You _know _how this is going to play out. There will never be peace between human and mutant. People will hate us not only for what we've done in the name of the Unity, but also simply for who we are – how we look. And, knowing that, we mutants will never be able to trust humans again.'

'You're speaking like you're one of them,' said Albert. 'You're not one of them. You're—'

'I _am _one of them!' Alex shouted, growing suddenly aggressive again before dropping his tone once more. 'And I'll prove it to you if you don't leave me alone,' he finished. The words were softly spoken but Albert heard them clearly even from where he was standing several storeys above.

Albert spent several long moments staring down at Alex. Then finally he nodded slowly. 'I wish there was more I could have done for you,' he said.

'There isn't,' said Alex. 'Not any more.'

Albert turned and headed back into the control room.

'We need to go,' he said to the rest once he had gotten back in. Tycho finished punching in the last commands. A siren blared, followed by the warning of a 20-minute countdown timer till the complex self-destructed. Natalia looked like she was going to protest again but Albert silenced her with a glance.

Albert, Erwin, Natalia, Tycho, Dogmeat, and the five recently freed captives left the control room and headed back to elevator as the countdown began. At the elevator lobby, they found Jennifer seated on the floor next to the elevators. Her helmet was thrown back and she was hugging herself with her arms. She managed to look both stunned and thoroughly miserable at the same time.

Albert stepped up and was about to give her a piece of his mind for what she had put Alex through when a new problem presented itself.

'Countdown rate accelerating,' said the automated voice over the PA system.

'What does that mean?' one of the freed captives asked with alarm as they waited for the next elevator to reach their floor. As the seconds ticked past, the next alert over the PA system answered their question.

'Warning. Self-destruct sequence initiated,' it reminded them. 'Twelve minutes remaining,' said the automated voice.

'Twelve!' said another of the former captives. 'It can't have been more than five minutes since leaving that control room!'

Albert leapt to action. 'Tycho. Erwin. You two get Natalia and these people out of here. I'll take Dogmeat back to the control room and find out what's happening. Jennifer…' Albert turned to the despondent paladin, his voice growing sterner. 'You're with me.'

'I can't go back,' she protested.

'That's an order, soldier!' Albert barked at her.

'I'm going back too,' Natalia argued, trying to free herself from Tycho's grasp.

'Natalia, I don't know if we're going to be able to figure this out,' said Albert. 'If we don't, I want you all out of this place before it blows sky high. And if we do, we'll still only have a few minutes left. This sequence can't be reversed, remember? We'll need to hightail it out of the control room. You can't do that in your condition.'

'Then we should _all _run!' said Erwin. 'Screw the countdown. Let's just _all _get the hell out here as fast as we can.'

'No, Erwin. He's right,' said Tycho solemnly, realizing Albert's logic. If the countdown rate kept climbing, there was no guarantee _any _of them would make it out. At least a few of them neededto at least try and return the countdown to its default rate. 'We need every minute we can get.' Tycho turned and nodded at Albert. 'Make it fast.'

'You just get everyone out of here,' said Albert. 'Come Dogmeat,' he said and took one step back in the direction of the control room before pausing and turning to Jennifer. 'Jennifer,' he said. 'Jennifer!'

Jennifer jerked in surprise as if she had only just heard him call her.

'I gave you an order! Get your ass into gear!'

That seemed to do the trick. Her training kicked in and she was on her feet, chasing after Albert and Dogmeat as they ran back the way they had just come.

They retraced their steps, every periodic announcement of the countdown timer hitting them like a sledgehammer and sending new jolts of panic through them. It was like diving back into a rapidly sinking ship or rushing into a burning building even as its foundations began to collapse. Every step they took towards the control room meant an additional step they would have to take to get back out.

When they finally turned the corner back to the control room, they saw the source of the seeming countdown malfunction through the open doorway to the room.

It was the Lieutenant. Or, rather, what was left of him. He looked nothing like a super mutant now except perhaps for his large shoulder pauldrons and his dull-green skin. His legs were heavily soaked in blood and missing large chunks of flesh from hip to toe. There was a gaping bloody hole in his torso where most of his guts had liquefied and spilled out onto the catwalks earlier. Hie face was gaunt, with gaps in his flesh revealing the muscle and bone beneath. As for his arms, he had only one left and even this one was thin, seemingly comprised more of bone than actual muscle.

And yet somehow he had managed to drag himself all the way back to the control room from the catwalks outside. The way he leaned heavily against the central Vats Control Computer showed he was clearly in a great deal of pain, his two maimed legs barely able to support his weight. Yet there he stood nonetheless. If anything, it was a testament to just how strong-willed he actually was.

At first, they couldn't figure out what he was doing, but when Albert saw the Lieutenant's fingers on the computer's control panel, it all became clear. The Lieutenant's one remaining hand was pushed fully against a single lever – a lever that was usually used to remotely lower the arm on the crane on the catwalks outside but which had now been reappropriated and reprogrammed somehow to accelerate the countdown timer.

'Stop him!' Albert yelled with growing anxiety in his voice. Both he and Jennifer raised their weapons even as they charged forward. Dogmeat led the way, bounding towards the open doorway to the control room.

The Lieutenant turned and spotted them. Even through his pain, he still managed a triumphant and confident smile as he temporarily released his hold on the lever. His fingers moved over to another switch.

By the time Albert realized what the switch was for, it was too late. His eyes widened, mouth agape in horror.

'N—!' he began to shout in denial when the Lieutenant thumbed the switch.

Dogmeat was halfway through the doorway when the energy fields suddenly came back to life.

With a terrible zapping noise and the hiss of burning flesh, Dogmeat's body was split neatly in two, the front half making it through into the control room and the back half stuck on the side of the barrier where Albert and Jennifer were now trapped.

'NNNOOOOOOOOOOO!' Albert screamed as both halves of Dogmeat fell to the ground. Albert pulled the trigger on his laser rifle and kept it depressed until the weapon overheated and started emitting smoke. But the laser beam was harmlessly absorbed by the barrier. On the other side, Albert could see Dogmeat still feebly trying to crawl forward towards the Lieutenant using only the front half of his body and his two front legs.

Albert raced up to the doorway, hammering loudly against the side with his power fist. 'NO! NO! NO! NNOOO!' He screamed with every strike. His cries of denial and rage and heart-wrenching anguish continued unabated as he tried to smash into the field emitters despite the earlier warnings he had given to Erwin.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you,' said the Lieutenant's voice over the speakers, his voice sounding strained and weak, but also confident and calm. 'The internal mechanisms of the emitters are shielded by the energy barrier as well. If you hit it, you're in for a rather nasty shock. Your armor will be like a lightning rod and pressure cooker combined into one. I assure you it will be _most_ painful.'

'Stop, Albert!' Jennifer yelled, rushing up to where Albert stood and pulling back on his arm so he would stop smashing the side of the door with his glove.

'Then again, you're both going to die anyway' said the Lieutenant, as he reached for the lever once again to accelerate the countdown rate. 'By setting off the self-destruct sequence, you destroyed the wasteland's only hope for peace and unity. I think it's only fitting you go down with it like the rest of us.'

Albert and Jennifer were frantic. With all the barriers on the level having come online again, there was no way into the control room _or _back to the elevator lobby. They were stuck and unable to flee or rectify the situation. Albert stared helplessly at the still ailing front half of Dogmeat's body as his faithful canine companion was still single-mindedly trying to drag himself over to the Lieutenant.

'No…' Albert sobbed, collapsing to his knees in front of the barrier. It was all over. Even if Natalia had been there with them, there would have been no time left on the counter by the time she made it through the field.

Then suddenly, even through the field, they heard heavy footwalls on the catwalks outside. Through the viewing window, they beheld a large super mutant rushing up to the control room.

Alex hit the window like a speeding locomotive. Despite its reinforcement, the Plexiglas might as well have been made of paper as Alex crashed right through, body-tackling a stunned Lieutenant as he did so.

Both mutants hit the ground hard. In his prime condition, the Lieutenant would likely have been more than a match for Alex. But in his half-dead state, he could not defend himself against the wrath and rage of a fellow super mutant. Alex brought his heavy fist down onto the Lieutenant's head, delivering blow after blow as he relived his torture at the Lieutenant's hands. Albert and Natalia and the rest may have failed to save him in time, but the Lieutenant was the reason he had needed saving in the first place.

When Alex was finally done, nothing remained of the Lieutenant's head but semi-solid mush leaking across the floor of the control room. Alex stared down at the headless, one-armed body below him. 'I told you your ass would be mine,' he said.

Alex got off the corpse, then he examined the control panel on the Vats Control Computer. He hit the same switch the Lieutenant had to activate the energy fields. There came a low-pitched whine that dropped in frequency. The force fields vanished as quickly as they had started.

Albert rushed forward to the front half of Dogmeat's mutilated body, raising his companion's head cradling it gently in his hands. But Dogmeat was already gone, the trail of blood behind him a testament to just how far he had crawled before finally perishing. Albert cried openly now, not caring who heard. All he could think of was the loss of his longtime companion and the fact that Dogmeat had died because of him. Albert had given the order to attack the Lieutenant, causing Dogmeat to fall right into the mutant leader's trap. And now it was too late to take it all back.

Jennifer, meanwhile remained on the outside of the control room, unwilling to enter while Alex was still in there. The confusion she had been trying to sort through in her mind while she had waited in the elevator lobby came rushing back, threatening to overwhelm her thoughts.

Alex knelt down next to Albert, ignoring Jennifer for the moment. 'You need to get out of here,' he said to Albert, placing one of his big paws on Albert's shoulder in a comforting gesture. 'You've got seven minutes left. If you run as fast as you can, you may still be able to make it.'

'I c-can't…' Albert began.

'I'll take care of him,' said Alex gently, reaching for Dogmeat's body. At first, Albert resisted, clutching tightly to Dogmeat's neck. 'I'll be with him until the end,' Alex assured him. Alex reached for Albert's fingers and gently pried them loose. 'Let him go, Albert. Let him go.'

Albert looked up at Alex. For the briefest moment, it looked like he was about to say a multitude of different things. In that moment, Alex saw all Albert's insecurities, normally hidden under his usual confident façade, now radiating from his face. In that moment, there was Albert – a man aged before his time, twisted and bent by the trials forced upon him, no mask to cover all the hard choices he had made as he led the group to their various goals.

But it was just a moment. Then Albert cast his eyes down as he summoned whatever inner reserves he still had left. And just like that, the moment was gone, the pain on Albert's face vanished, now buried deep down inside of him. When he looked back up at Alex, the Albert Alex had known their entire time in the wasteland together – the Albert who rose to every challenge and got the job done; the Albert who led when no one else was able despite his own inner demons – was back. Albert reached for his helmet hanging off the back of the neck of his armor and pulled it back on, shutting out his facial expressions from Alex, Jennifer, and the world – insulating himself from everyone and everything else.

'You're right,' said Albert as he fastened the seals on his helmet. He passed Dogmeat over to Alex's arms. His voice was calm now, almost passive. 'You're a good man,' he said as he rose to his feet, his confidence returning with every additional movement. He stood now before Alex, just as he had way back in the Vault during all those Exodus meetings – confident, self-assured, strong, charismatic, and capable.

As Albert prepared to leave, he noticed for the first time the dozens of burn marks on Alex's chest – effects of a gatling laser, no doubt. 'You're hurt,' he said.

Alex waved it off nonchalantly. 'It takes more than that to bring a super mutant down. The Lieutenant should have remembered that.' He looked down at the Lieutenant's corpse. '_He's_ hurt more,' he commented, some of his old humor coming back.

Several long seconds of silence passed between them before Albert decided that he really _did _need to go if he wanted to make it out alive. 'Goodbye, Alex,' he said. 'I wish things had been different.'

'So do I,' said Alex. 'Now get the hell out of here.' Alex spared no glance for Jennifer, his thoughts and emotions about her still a mixed whirlwind of anger, love, perceived betrayal, and longing.

As Albert and Jennifer stepped out of the room, Alex walked over and brought both halves of Dogmeat's body together and laid them gently down on his lap as he sat on the cold metal floor, his back to the wall of the control room. He reached out and stroked the dead dog's scruffy, blood-stained head with his large mutated fingers.

* * *

><p>Jennifer, in the meantime, had been running for the elevators when she heard the charging sound of a plasma pistol. Before she could react, the bolt struck her in her back, at the very spot where the systolic motivator of her power armor was located. Her suit froze suddenly, her momentum carrying her forward over armored legs that no longer responded to her own attempted movements. She crashed, hitting the ground hard and sliding several feet. Stuck in a suit that no longer worked, she was paralyzed.<p>

Footsteps came up behind her. She craned her head, her eyes widening in shock as she spotted Albert catching up to her.

'Alex deserved better,' Albert said simply, holstering his plasma pistol. 'He sacrificed his entire life to be with you and you threw it all back into his face.' Alex reached for her ankles and began dragging her back to the control room. His voice was a monotone. 'Because of you, he will never again have the chance to say goodbye to his parents and his siblings. And he will die here feeling betrayed and alone.'

'Albert. Don't,' said Jennifer, the panic rising within her as Albert pulled her back as the countdown timer continued to drop. 'Please…'

'Funny,' he commented. 'Isn't that the very same word Alex said to you earlier?'

They hadn't gone far from the control room and, less than half a minute later, they were back. Alex's look of surprise at Albert's return grew exponentially as he saw Jennifer's body being hauled back against her will.

'What's happening?' he asked. 'Why are you back?'

'I concluded that you should get to decide her fate,' said Albert. 'The world owes you that much.' Releasing his grip on her, he turned and left.

With Albert gone, Alex sat and stared, unmoving, at Jennifer, even as the next minute on the timer was announced over the speakers. Five minutes. Jennifer's eyes betrayed her emotions that, even now, were still conflicted. Finally, she could hold his gaze no longer and lowered her eyes.

'I'm sorry, Alex,' she said, her voice sounding genuinely contrite as she slowly began to accept her fate. 'I wish I was a better person… But I'm not. I wish I could say that if we went back thirty minutes in time, I would have stayed instead of turning and running, but I can't… There was a woman in the cell blocks who was with the mutants. She seemed to really care for one of the mutants. Maybe… she was even in love with him. I almost killed her for it and now… Now I wish I could make myself feel what she felt… But I… I can't. I just… I don't know how to deal with this. I don't know how to change it, Alex…'

For several long seconds, Alex didn't reply. Then he carefully laid Dogmeat's body to the side and walked over to her. 'Thank you for your honesty,' he said coldly.

Jennifer shut her eyes tight as he reached for her, his enormous hands grabbing a hold of her armor. She deserved this, she knew. She deserved this and more for being such a horrible person. Alex had saved her and Erwin and Gunther and the rest – sacrificed himself for them – and she had abandoned him in his darkest hour. Yes, she certainly deserved what was coming. She shouldn't be allowed to be let off for what she had done (and would still do) to him. This was how it should be.

A part of her reacted in alarm as she heard her armor start to groan from the intense amount of pressure Alex was exerting on it. He was actually starting to bend and break the armor apart! The strain in the armor became palpably audible. She clenched her eyes even tighter, waiting for the end when she would feel his powerful hands crushing the life out of her.

With a sudden grating and shearing noise, her armor came apart, ripped in half by the sheer strength of a particularly large super mutant. Without her armor, dressed only in the dark-green bodysuit that all paladins wore under their T-51bs, Jennifer suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. She waited for the end.

But it didn't come.

When she opened her eyes again, she was shocked to see Alex had returned to where he had been sitting before. His hand was once again on Dogmeat's head as if he found some comfort from the physical touch, even if it was of a creature that was no longer alive. Jennifer looked expectantly at Alex, but he said nothing.

Her thoughts were a whirlwind. If she had been conflicted before, it was far worse now. In addition to revulsion, anger, horror, shame, self-loathing, guilt, and fear, she was now totally and utterly confused, not just by Alex's actions but also by how she felt.

'Get out of here,' Alex said quietly, without looking up at her. 'If you're fast enough, you might still make it out in time.'

Jennifer got to her feet, her eyes still staring down at Alex uncertainly. She took one step to the doorway, paused, and turned back. Alex didn't look up. It was as if he had deliberately tuned himself out to her presence. She turned again and this time hesitantly stepped out of the doorway into the corridor beyond.

* * *

><p>From the cover of a large boulder and a few trees, Erwin, Natalia, Tycho, and the recently freed captives watched the side entrance to the base, waiting in anticipation for Albert, Jennifer, and Dogmeat to appear. The woman in the cell blocks hadn't moved when they opened her cell. Instead she had crawled over to the body of the mutant she apparently cared so much about and refused to move. With the timer still spiraling down to zero, no one had the patience to convince her to leave. They had all heard the announcement that the countdown rate had been returned to its default, meaning that Albert and Jennifer had solved whatever the problem had been, but that still hadn't given them much time.<p>

'How long more do they have?' Natalia asked anxiously.

'Three minutes,' said Tycho.

'Come on, Albert,' Natalia muttered under her breath.

From the main ramp of the base, scattered mutants were fleeing, many of them injured from their fights with the internal robotic security. Natalia only hoped Albert, Jennifer, and Dogmeat hadn't had to face any of them.

They continued watching with bated breaths.

'Two minutes,' said Tycho.

They heard the side door being activated from within. It slid up, lighting up the area around it with the fluorescent lights from within. And out stepped an armored figure. The helmet was on but the plasma pistol carried in one of its hands told them all they needed to know.

'Albert!' Natalia called, limping out of cover. If any fleeing mutants noticed them, they did nothing to stop them. Tycho jumped out after her.

Albert heard Natalia's call and raced towards her. Natalia threw her arms around him and gave him a strong hug. Then she pulled away, her voice sounding worried. 'Where… where's Dogmeat? Where's Jennifer?'

Albert didn't say anything. He broke from the embrace and headed over to the where the other former captives were taking cover. Natalia stared silently after him. The sagging in his shoulders told her all she needed to know.

* * *

><p>'One minute till self-destruct,' said the automated voice.<p>

'I was supposed to be down there when the Vats break,' Alex said to Dogmeat's unmoving body. 'But I think it's better to be up here with you. Even if I _am_ just talking to myself.'

'You're _not_ talking to yourself,' said a familiar voice that was so close that Alex jumped at the sound of it. He hadn't noticed her come back in. But there was Jennifer, right in front of him. Without her power armor, she looked so small, especially now that he was looking at her through a super mutant's eyes. She slid down beside him, their backs to the eastern wall of the control room.

Alex was too stunned to speak for several seconds. 'Wh… what are you doing back here?' he asked in disbelief.

'I don't know,' she said honestly. 'But I can't leave you here alone.'

Alex wasn't sure how to interpret her return. Maybe she was feeling guilty. Maybe it was pity. Maybe… just maybe… it was love that had brought her back. Or maybe it was just pure insanity. But in the end, he realized it didn't matter to him. She was there with him at the end of it all, and things didn't seem quite so miserable. But with that renewed feeling came the horrible lurch in the pit of his stomach. If she stayed here, she was going to die. And now he was _sure_ of it: he didn't want that to happen.

'You have to get out of here, Jennifer,' he said urgently. 'You can't be here when—'

'It's already too late,' she said calmly. Whatever she felt or didn't feel for him, she had apparently already come to terms with it. She leaned in close and rested her head against his massive chest. 'Just hold me,' she said. Those words, at least, told Alex that she had overcome her physical aversion to him, even if it was only sparked by the dismal nature of their circumstances. Alex didn't care. To Alex, it was the best feeling he had ever experienced. He reached out his arm and pulled her closer towards him.

'Since when did you get so tiny?' he joked, recalling all the times he had always had to look up to her because she had been suited up in the power armor that now lay in a broken heap a few feet away.

Jennifer laughed. Amidst the periodic wail of the sirens, her laughter was music to his ears. 'I guess it's—'

She never finished her sentence. The room shook violently with the first explosion. Before they had time to react, the second explosion struck, collapsing the roof above their heads. Tons of rock and metal came crashing down upon them. The rest of the explosions followed swiftly after.

* * *

><p>Albert, Erwin, Natalia, Tycho, and the rest were thrown off balance as the ground beneath them trembled with the seemingly unending chain of detonations beneath their feet.<p>

'We're too close!' Tycho yelled. 'We need to get further!'

Everyone turned and ran.

* * *

><p>Marcus and Rhombus were locked together, each of them trying to hold off the other's weapon. Ammunition had run out long ago, forcing every remaining combatant to resort to close-combat attacks. Over Rhombus' right hand was a power glove he had taken off a dead paladin's own fist. The knuckles of the glove crackled with energy. In Marcus' own right hand was a ripper vibroblade, taken off another paladin's corpse, the chains spinning at full speed.<p>

When the explosions began, it sounded like repeated peals of thunder. Every mutant turned, his or her own worst fears suddenly realized. Every Brotherhood soldier turned, an expression of wonderment and hesitant but rapidly growing elation rising within him or her.

When the shockwaves of the explosions reached them, many were thrown off their feet. Marcus and Rhombus, who had been battling on one of the hilly slopes surrounding the exposition center, both lost their footing, sending them tumbling down the steep incline.

Marcus hit the bottom first and somehow managed to rise to his feet despite the tremors. His eyes darted around till he found Vanders - all that was left was the mutant's bullet-ridden and partially hacked up corpse lying several yards away. The decision on what to do next now rested on Marcus. His sharp mind rapidly calculated all the implications of the explosions which he knew came from the Mariposa base. The fact that the explosions still had not ceased told him all he needed to know – the Vats were gone. And that meant there was no point in all of them losing their lives here anymore. The tables had already turned. The Unity was over. Now _they _would be the hunted ones. And to survive, they would need every single ally alive to help defend themselves.

'Fall back!' he bellowed the order. The remaining mutants looked in surprise to the source of the command. 'Fall back!' he yelled again, making sharp gestures with his right arm towards the northeast – directly into the mountains. It was the toughest route to take, but that also meant that the Brotherhood soldiers would need to be equally desperate and crazy to catch them.

Some mutants stayed to fight. But most heeded the sound of their acting commander's voice.

Rhombus tried to regain his balance and rise from where he had fallen, surprised by the sudden turn of events. A fellow paladin helped him to his feet.

'Are you okay, sir?' asked the paladin.

Rhombus glanced at the paladin's tag ID on his left pauldron. 'I'm fine, Jacob,' he said in his usual gruff voice to the youngest paladin in the platoon.

'Then let's go get them, sir,' Jacob urged him when he realized that Rhombus wasn't making any move to pursue the fleeing mutants. Jacob picked up Rhombus fallen power glove, disconnected in the tumble Rhombus had taken earlier, and handed it back to him. Rhombus didn't take the proffered weapon.

'It's over,' Rhombus said, releasing the seals on his helmet and pulling it off so it hung back from its hinges.

'But sir!' Jacob protested. 'We have a chance to wipe them all out now for good!'

Rhombus looked wearily at Jacob. 'The tides have changed, Jacob. With the destruction of the Vats, the mutants are done for as a collective fighting force. They'll never be able to replenish their ranks again. Our weapons are dry and we would have to fight them tooth and nail all the way.'

'But—'

Rhombus sighed, silencing any further protests from Jacob. 'Haven't enough of our brothers died today?' he stated. Jacob lowered his gaze, the point striking home. Rhombus turned to view the lay of the land and the dozens of bodies, both mutant and human littering the remains of the exposition center. 'Regroup,' he called out loud to all his soldiers, so none would pursue the fleeing mutants. The fighting had gotten so concentrated once ammunition had run out that there was no need for him to use the radio anymore. Everyone who was still in any condition to fight heard his order loud and clear. 'We're done here, soldiers,' Rhombus declared. 'Mission accomplished.'

* * *

><p>END OF CHAPTER<p>

Too melodramatic? I think I might have diverged from the whole 'goal of plausibility' a little in this chapter. But, heck, there it is.

Merry Christmas, y'all! Or, if you don't celebrate the festivities and have an inexplicable aversion to the use of the word, then Happy Holidays!


	37. Chapter 36: Inconvenient Truths Part I

Dang it! I can't seem to stick to my original plans. So, I initially intended to combine three parts of the story into the penultimate chapter. But it just didn't flow well to pack them all into a single chapter. So I'm splitting it into 3. This first part entails one of the audio logs taken from the Vats Control Computer. I know it looks like a cop-out because the first part of this chapter (as well as a holodisk that appears later in the chapter) is basically a word-for-word transcription of the audio log from the game. Not very creative, I know. I initially tried to recreate the events in the form of a 3rd person narrative, but, again, it didn't flow well for a single chapter because it takes place over the course of several weeks. It would require at least 3 or 4 chapters for it to work which, itself, would be problematic since it would have been too much of a departure from the main plot of the novelization.

So... I'm including it as it appears in the game and then situating it in the current context of the main plot. I'm experimenting with all this. So for those of you who are more experienced with writing than I am, let me know if you think I could have done this in a better way.

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Inconvenient Truths Part I**

**Audio log from Mariposa Military Base Vats Control Computer**

**Dated October 10th-27th, 2077**

**• Oct 10, 2077**  
><strong>I, Roger Maxson, Captain, serial number 072389 have started this log because it doesn't look good for any of us, and I'd like for people to know what really happened here.<strong>

**All hell broke loose when we finally discovered what those scientist bastards were up to. The Colonel has locked himself in his office and seems to be having some sort of breakdown. The men are screaming for blood. They're looking to me for answers, and I'm not sure what to do. Someone has to do something, though, before this place sinks into an anarchistic bloodbath.**

**• Oct. 12 2077**  
><strong>Every time we get a report from higher up, things get worse here. The war is going in a very bad direction and this place is about to go into full mutiny, with all the chaos it brings. I stopped one of the men from executing a scientist today, and demanded that we interrogate them to find out what their orders were.<strong>

**• Oct.13 2077**  
><strong>I killed a man today. I was interrogating Chief Scientist Anderson and he was giving me the full details of their inhuman experiments. He said his orders came from the government, but I didn't buy it. He started screaming about how he was following orders, how he was a military man, and I just shot him. I tell myself it was to keep him from causing a full mutiny among the men, but I'm not so sure.<strong>

**• Oct.15 2077 I tried again to speak to the Colonel through the door, but he seems to have completely lost touch with reality. I broke down the door with several of the men just in time to watch him blow his head off. Right before he pulled the trigger he said he was sorry.**

**• Oct. 18 2077**  
><strong>By killing the egghead, I seem to have confirmed my position as leader of the men. They follow me without question now. The interrogations invariably end up being executions. Shellman held out the longest, but the end result was the same. Her arguments about orders were a bit too specific to be completely made up. I'm getting a real bad feeling in my gut about how this is all going to end up. I don't even lie to myself anymore about my reasons for executing the scientists.<strong>

**• Oct.20 2077**  
><strong>I finally replied to the outside world over our radio. I don't know why they never sent anyone here to see what was happening when we stopped responding to their transmissions. It doesn't make any sense. Well, they'll come now. I declared ourselves seceded from the union. Jefferson Davis, eat your heart out.<strong>

**• Oct.22 2077**  
><strong>What the hell is going on? We declare ourselves to be in full desertion from the army and no longer under the Government's command and what happens? Nothing. Something bad is coming down.<strong>

**• Oct. 23 2077**  
><strong>I can't believe those bastards finally did it. Damn them all to hell. They finally let the A-bombs fly. We were right in the middle of trying to pry the real story out of von Felden when we completely lost contact. I have a feeling the research center was hit hard. I don't know why, just call it a gut feeling. It seems inconceivable that we were not targeted. I'm sure China will make up for that oversight real soon. Luckily, we had moved our families from outside into the facility the day before yesterday. We do not yet know if the fallout has reached this area.<strong>

**• Oct. 25 2077**  
><strong>Sergeant Platner volunteered to go outside today to take specific readings on the atmosphere. It seems the radiation has not spread this far. Since he was wearing his power armor, there was no threat to him from radiation, but if he had been exposed he would have had to be exiled. We don't have adequate decontamination facilities here.<strong>

**• Oct. 26 2077**  
><strong>I convinced the men that we should bury the scientists. I don't know why... perhaps it was to ease my conscience. I finally started to believe their stories when the last one was dying.<strong>  
><strong>My God, what have I become?<strong>

**• Oct. 27 2077**  
><strong>We're leaving this godforsaken place today. I'm leading the exodus to the old government bunker at Lost Hills. I'm leaving this log behind to be buried when this place goes in the next exchange. Who knows, maybe someone will find it someday...<strong>

Sophia, the Brotherhood historian sat silently at the desk in her office, her eyes wide and staring off into space as she sipped from her mug of coffee. She ejected the holodisk from the computer terminal and stared at it for what seemed like hours. According to what she had been told, these records had been copied from a computer in the mutants' base and then transferred to the disk. It was supposed to be very important.

Sophia gave an audible smirk. She had been told that whatever was on the disk would be used as evidence in Erwin's trial. Apparently, he had disobeyed a direct order out in the field and instead of staying at his post, had gone with the outsider, Albert, directly into the military base. To make matters worse, there were still some, including among the Elders, who disagreed with accepting Albert and his friends into the ranks of the Brotherhood.

The Elders planned on reviewing his case to determine if he was still fit to serve in the Brotherhood. On the one hand, he had played a direct hand in the destruction of the Vats – no small feat – and had come back with information that might be highly relevant to the Brotherhood. On the other, the chain of command was everything in the Brotherhood, and he had flagrantly disregarded it through his act of disobedience.

So the Elders had asked her to verify the contents of the holodisk he had brought back with him. If it was valuable, it might serve to mitigate the severity of the charges raised against him. Now that she had listened to the audio logs in their entirety, Sophia wasn't sure if it would help or worsen Erwin's position. These historical records were invaluable, there was no doubt about that. They provided a better picture of the origins of the Brotherhood and its founder – much better than their current records, which were nothing more than stories passed down over the generations. The problem, however, was that Roger Maxson was something of an idol in the eyes of just about everyone in the Brotherhood of Steel. Over the decades, he had become an untouchable symbol that inspired and unified them all. If Sophia released this information to the others, it would show Roger Maxson for who he really was – a flawed man with a dark past, one that was somewhat understandable given the circumstances, to be sure, but a tainted one nonetheless.

What if the Brotherhood Elders didn't take well to this bit of history? What if High Elder Maxson decided he didn't like the image painted of his grandfather by this new evidence? Would they then consider Erwin a liability and exile him anyway so that no one would ever know? What about herself? Or, even worse, what if they did decide to publicize the information and it inadvertently caused the destabilization of the entire Brotherhood's sense of purpose and identity? The Brotherhood's recruitment rate was already almost negligible. Aside from Albert, Natalia, and the rest, Erwin had been the one of the last new recruits. And that meant that every member they lost was a heavy blow to the prospects of their survival as an organization. It didn't help that most of the leadership were staunchly against opening up the recruitment process. The selection process was still as stringent and selective as ever and the last thing they needed was for existing members to begin doubting the Brotherhood.

Sophia never felt so torn in her life. Here she was, perhaps the one person firmly committed to preserving the Brotherhood's history and educating the rest so they would never forget who they were and where they came from. And now this inconvenient piece of truth about their past had to surface with all its potentially dire ramifications. The question about whether she cared for history or the Brotherhood more was a difficult one made virtually impossible by the fact that the two were intertwined in this case. It was the history of the Brotherhood that was at stake versus the wellbeing of the Brotherhood.

Sophia sighed and placed it in her traveling case that she would bring to the trial. At least if she kept it with her, she would still have both options available to her once she was called to testify.

* * *

><p>It wasn't often that a trial was conducted. Usually when it did occur, it was due to egregious insubordination or some other serious lapse of judgment.<p>

All the five elders were there as well as the chiefs of staff – Rhombus from the Paladins, Vree from the Scribes, and Paul from the Knights – and other company commanders. The sequence went as Sophia had expected. Maxson, presiding as judge, read out the sentence, the Prosecution reiterated the charges, Erwin was called forward to give his statement, then various witnesses were brought forward to explain their observations of what had transpired. Most of the witnesses had only seen or spoken to him _after _the whole destruction of the Vats, so the most they could say was that he had clearly been involved in the assault on the Vats. The only one who could actually offer an account of what was involved in Erwin's abandonment of his post was the junior paladin who had been assigned to guard the staging area with Erwin, and _he _was far from happy from having been abandoned to guard the location and stores all on his own.

Finally, the Defense called upon Sophia to reveal what she had found from the holodisk that had been in Erwin's possession. 'What was on the disk?' the representative from the Defense asked.

Sophia hesitated. She could still do it. Still lie about the audio diary or simply not mention it. Besides the audio log recordings, there had also been a single document entailing Roger Maxson's final set of standing orders for the personnel at the Mariposa military base. Maybe that would be enough to help Erwin out.

Sophia handed the printout to the Defense who read it out loud.

**By my orders, as active commanding officer following the untimely death of Colonel Robert Spindel during this time of crisis, the full base security team has been deployed to the security bunker at Lost Hills.**

**This directive also includes the families of the officers and enlisted men.**

**Unless otherwise directed, from a proper representative of the War Department, this order will stand as written.**

**Operative 1: All military personnel, and their families, are to vacate the base by 0800, 27 Oct 2077. All personnel, traveling under command, will make their way to Lost Hills base. No leave has been granted.**

**Operative 2: All civilian personnel are directed to remain at base, pending orders from their legal command structure.**

**Operative 3: Equipment deemed necessary to the survival of base military personnel is to be immediately drawn from stores. Proper authorization will follow, time permitting.**

**Operative 4: All codes of military justice will be harshly enforced, on military personnel and civilian personnel in joint military operations.**

**Operative 5: Until such time as consistent and authorized communication can be established with the War Department, these orders will have precedence over any previously established orders.**

**Captain Maxson**

**24 Oct 2077**

'Well, this is interesting information indeed,' said High Elder Maxson, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 'This would suggest…' he paused as he let the gravity of the situation sink in. 'This would suggest that this base that was overtaken by the super mutants was _also _the place of origin of our Exodus.' He paused again, then waved to silence the growing murmurs. 'This would also mean,' he said slowly, 'that it is also possible that our forefathers may have been… aware of what was going on there.' He turned so he was looking directly at Sophia. 'Was there anything _else _on the holodisk, my dear?'

Sophia squirmed uncomfortably in her shoes. She had hoped that everyone would have been excited enough about Captain Maxson's standing orders to be willing to forgive Erwin and let him off the hook without further inquiry. But apparently now they wished to verify even more about their past. And the fact that it was High Elder Maxson asking about his own grandfather made her all the more uncomfortable.

Sophia was silent for longer than was natural.

'Senior Scribe Sophia,' the Defense said sternly, jolting her to her senses. 'High Elder Maxson has asked you a question.'

Sophia bit her lip and was just starting to shake her head when she changed her mind at the very last moment and snatched the holodisk from her bag. 'You may want to hear this,' she said. 'There was also an audio recording on the holodisk.' Tthe Defense representative walked over to retrieve the disk and insert it into the room's audio projector. 'You _all _need to hear this,' she added before the recordings began playing, one after another.

At the end of it all, there came a long silence. The only ones who weren't surprised were Erwin and herself. Eventually, someone spoke, but it wasn't anyone on the judiciary committee, Defense, or Prosecution. Instead, it came from the audience of commanders.

'It's like I've been saying all this while,' said Senior Paladin Barnaky, 'we have a commitment to the people of the wasteland. Even _more _so now. If that recording is true, then by refraining from destroying the Vats all those years ago, our forebearers were partly responsible for the continued existence of the FEV that has proven to be such a bane to the lives of the people of the wasteland.'

'Your… _opinion_… has already been duly noted on many occasions, Senior Paladin Barnaky,' one of the Elders said disdainfully. 'Are you now suggesting that our savior, Captain Roger Maxson, was to blame for the mutant problem?'

'Nothing of the sort,' Barnaky argued back, unfazed. 'I am merely pointing out that our actions are, and _were_, tied to the people of the wasteland. We cannot be hoarding technology all to ourselves _only _for that sole purpose. We have an obligation to help those on the outside develop and grow. We did not destroy the Vats when we had the chance all those years ago, and it came back to plague everyone on the west coast.'

'That sounds dangerously close to an accusation,' the same Elder warned. 'I would learn your place, if I were you.'

'Perhaps I was not quite clear in my words, and if so, you have my apologies. I am as convinced as you that, in those trying times, our great founder made the best and only feasible decisions that were available to him. That is why any of us are even here today. But those same decisions had inevitable unforeseen repercussions that ended up being felt across the wasteland.'

'You speak alone on the matter,' said a second Elder. 'And more seriously, you speak against the very founding principles of the Brotherhood. Will you go against the directives of Captain Roger Maxson himself?'

'I am hardly alone, and you know it,' Barnaky challenged, producing audible murmurs of displeasure. 'Captain Maxson's goal was to help rebuild civilization. How are we doing that if we keep hoarding the technology we find with no regard for those around us? There are some in this very room whom I know agree with me, if not to help the people of the wasteland then at least to give us the ability to expand our dwindling ranks. And these are sentiments that are shared by many of the other brothers who are not in this room.'

'That will be enough, Simon,' High Elder Maxson interjected for the first time. 'Now is not the time for debating the Brotherhood's stance towards outsiders. Now we must determine what we should do with what we have just heard and seen and decide what is to become of Journeyman Knight Erwin Haverson.'

'Of course, High Elder,' said Barnaky, bowing his head with a respect he had not reserved for the other Elders.

'It seems we have all the evidence and testimonies we sought,' said Maxson, squinting at a list of items in his hand. 'Unless the Defence or the Prosecution have anything to add, I will call an end to today's proceedings. Journeyman Knight Erwin, the Council will deliberate on your case and call you back in for a final appraisal within the hour.'

While the Elders discussed his case on their own, Erwin sat outside feeling miserable. Back when he had left the staging area with Albert, it had been simple choice. Alex had saved his life as well as all the others who had been there with him, not to mention the entire mission itself. It had not only been fitting but a matter of honor and loyalty for Erwin to do all he could to save Alex. Only… Alex hadn't wanted to be saved. They had been too late. Erwin had failed. And Alex had died. And with that failure in mind, Erwin didn't know what to do anymore. He needed someone to give him orders – to give his life some semblance of purpose, whatever that purpose might be. If they let him go now, he would have nowhere to go, nothing to do. Things might have been different if Alex were still alive… if Erwin's deliberate disobedience had actually amounted to something. But it hadn't.

That was why he had returned. He hadn't needed to. He could have just deserted, maybe even joined Albert, Natalia, and Tycho. They had no intentions on staying on with the Brotherhood despite their honorary memberships and would have welcomed him. They had said as much. But seeing their faces was too much a reminder of the collective failure they all shared in rescuing Alex. Erwin needed to feel that sense that he was actually accomplishing something again. The Brotherhood had given him that in the past and he hoped it would do so again.

Someone sat down next to him and he looked up to find it was Sophia, the historian.

'I hope that data on the holodisk was helpful,' he said worriedly to her.

She smiled back. 'I wasn't sure at first,' she said, 'but I think things worked out in the end. For you and me at least.'

Erwin frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'There's a lot more politicking going on behind the scenes than you or I are aware of,' she explained. 'You caught a whiff of it just now.'

'Yeah, that was… weird,' said Erwin.

'It's been going on longer than you realize.' Sophia leaned a little closer to him. 'How much do you want to remain in the Brotherhood,' she said.

'What?' Erwin was confused.

'What are you willing to do to retain your place here?' she rephrased.

'Anything,' Erwin blurted.

'Then here's what you need to do.'

Half an hour later, feeling no better than when he had left, Erwin was invited back itno the meeting room. This time, it was just the five Elders and their stern faces. Even the representatives from the Defense and Prosecution were gone.

'Before we give you our verdict,' said High Elder Maxson, 'will you do us the favor of answering just one more question for us?'

'Of course,' Erwin said, trying to conceal his nervousness.

'What is _your _view on the Brotherhood's vision and goals?' asked Maxson.

'I beg your pardon, sir?' he asked.

'You are one of our last and most recent recruits,' Maxson began to explain. 'You underwent a very rigorous selection process, if you recall. Almost all of the other potential recruits who were considered alongside you were ultimately rejected a place in the Brotherhood. How do you feel about that? Do you feel we should open ourselves up more to the outside world? Share our technology with them?'

'Sir,' Erwin said, beginning timidly but growing more confident as he went along, 'I am not sure if I am qualified enough to—'

'You are, at least for the time being, a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, are you not?' one of the other Elders interrupted him.

'Y…yes, sir. Yes, I am,' he answered, not liking the implication of the Elder one bit.

'Then you are fully capable of answering a question about the foundation of our organization. Do you agree with the Brotherhood's stance on technology and recruitment?'

Erwin pursed his lips for a moment. Then he spoke, hesitantly at first, but growing more confident with every sentence. 'If the respected Elders wish me to give my opinion on the matter, I would do my best to provide them with my opinion.'

'We do,' said Maxson.

Erwin sighed. 'I was tasked with observing the defences of the Hub for many months as part of my initiation training. I learnt a lot while I was there, as I mentioned in the report I gave when I returned. I learnt that the Hub has a sizeable security force but one that is based on conventional weaponry and equipment. I learnt that, militarily, they are no threat to us. However, from my time there, including my temporary imprisonment by the underworld kingpin, Decker, I also learnt that there are many bad people out there in the wasteland who will seize every opportunity to push others down in their desire for power. Technology is dangerous, even more so in the hands of corrupt, power-hungry people. The super mutants proved it with their FEV. And the Brotherhood proved that it could step up and do the right thing by facing that threat and I firmly believe that was _because _we had access to such technology and because everyone there was a soldier trained to be the very best. I have already failed once in my ability to trust in the leadership of the Brotherhood. I have no intention on questioning the decisions of my superiors a second time.'

Maxson cast a glance at the other Elders. Some unspoken message passed between them before Maxson turned back to Erwin. 'Well, Erwin, we appreciate your honest opinion. A little too unquestioning, perhaps, but right now, that's exactly the kind of soldier we're looking for. We also wish to inform you that your contributions in helping bring down the super mutants have outweighed the potential risks you caused by abandoning your post. Your profile has been flagged such that any further subordination will be dealt with severely in light of your prior transgressions. In the meantime, your position in the Brotherhood has been reinstated. You will report to Head Knight Paul tomorrow to resume your duties. That will be all.'

When Erwin left the room, the first person he looked for was Sophia. 'You were right!' he said excitedly. Sophia smiled, but she seemed sad. 'What's wrong?' Erwin asked, slightly confused. 'It happened just as you predicted.'

'Which just means one thing,' she said.

'What?'

'That there's going to be a culling.'

* * *

><p>A week later, the Elders announced a major expedition to hunt down the fleeing mutants. It was the largest, most ambitious mission they had ever commissioned. It was to be led by Senior Paladin Barnaky and his second-in-command, Senior Paladin Dekker, along with an entire company of Brotherhood personnel – knights, scribes, and paladins. In a single day, the Brotherhood of Steel lost a quarter of its total personnel. Only a few of those who remained realized that all those who had been assigned the mission had, at some point or other, expressed misgivings about the Brotherhood's decision to remove itself away from the happenings of the outside world. This company of soldiers would eventually find themselves stranded and far removed from those that had sent them, in a city once known as Chicago. There they would forge a new Brotherhood of Steel – one that was based on a fundamentally different and even opposing philosophy to the one they had left behind in California.<p>

* * *

><p>END OF CHAPTER<p>

For those who haven't played it, the last part of this chapter functions as a prelude to the pc game Fallout Tactics.


	38. Chapter 37: Inconvenient Truths Part II

So, I figured out how to make Part I and Part II seem less tangential. While writing this short chapter, I put it in the context of closure for some of the main characters of the novelization. So just as the last chapter was the end of the story of Erwin (and also a hinted prelude to Fallout Tactics, for those of you who have played it), this chapter is the end of the story for some of the other characters. Next chapter will be the penultimate chapter... unless I decide some other stupid thing, but at this point, that's not that likely.

I'm still centering this chapter around another of the audio logs. This time, I made some very minor edits to the wording to reflect the context of the situation a little more realistically. Other than that, the recordings are pretty much taken straight out of the game.

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Inconvenient Truths, Part II**

Harold, the ghoul from the Hub, sat alone in the darkened room, thinking of times past… back before he had transformed into a ghoul. Well… technically he wasn't a ghoul. The term 'Ghoul' was generally applied to humans who had been exposed to too much radiation over time but hadn't perished as a result. Harold's mutation was caused by… something – something in that base with all those robots. Of course, that didn't mean he got treated any differently.

The door to the house was pushed open suddenly, causing Harold to jump. He turned. It was Nick – one of the many ghouls who had slowly started trickling into the Hub over the past few weeks. Nick had been the first. He had told Harold that their old place in Necropolis had gotten overrun by giant mutants, forcing all of them (who hadn't died in the attack) to flee. There were two nearby established locations they could have chosen: the Lost Hills bunker where the Brotherhood of Steel was located and the Hub. They knew they would be shunned in the Hub. But at least the Hub was big enough that they could find _some _place to reside. The Brotherhood gave them no such option.

And so they had come. And, just as Harold had suspected, they had suffered immediate ostracization, forcing them into the one place in the Hub where they had any chance of finding shelter for themselves – Old Town. The problem was that Old Town also attracted ruffians and small gangs – the same ones who had always given Harold trouble.

Harold had wanted nothing more than to continue to stay out of their way as much as possible. But while he could tolerate their bullying on himself, it was a different matter when he saw someone else who, for all intents and purposes looked as bad as he did, suffering at the hands of the other normals in Old Town.

While he was in no condition to fight back against the thugs, he had taken it upon himself to offer shelter to the ghouls and teach them the ropes, especially how to avoid the rougher parts of Old Town.

But now Nick looked positively terrified. He strode into the room faster than Harold had ever seen him move before, which basically meant that he was moving as fast as an adult normal taking a jog; most ghouls couldn't move much faster than that.

'What's goin' on, youngster?' he asked.

'Three of them,' Nick said, clearly out of breath. 'They saw me. They were carrying weapons. I think they were out looking to hurt people. And… I think they had ghouls in mind.'

Harold sighed, getting to his feet. 'And so you brought them here,' he said wearily.

'I… didn't know what else to do,' Nick said, sounding both worried and apologetic at the same time.

'Alright. Let's see if we can talk some sense in them.'

Fifteen seconds later, the three thugs burst into the room. They each had some kind of makeshift weapon. The first had an old baseball bat, the second a lead pipe, and the third a loose brick. And judging by how they moved and the smell on their breaths, they were stone-drunk.

'Hello boys,' said Harold. 'A bit early to be hittin' the bottle, don'tcha think?'

'Y…you,' said the one with the bat, his voice coming out slurred. 'H…haven't seen, you in a whiiile. We owe you a thrrrashing.'

'No need for that, now, is there?' said Harold.

'We're… sick of you ghouls trying to take over Old Town. We don't need you're… stinking filth here. Old Town belongs to humans. Not fr… freaks.'

'Old Town's huge,' said Harold, pausing to clear his lungs with a wheezing cough. 'Surely there's enough space for—'

The brick went flying, striking Harold hard on the shoulder, causing him to cry out in sudden pain as he fell to the ground. The one with the bat strode forward and brought it down hard on Harold's shin. Pain exploded in his leg as the flimsy bones shattered from the impact. Nick stood by, paralyzed in fear.

Baseball bat-boy gloated at Harold. 'I think we've been toooo good to you. We've let you stay here too long. Time to… take back what's ours.'

The second blow never came. They all heard the discharge of energy. Then they saw the flash of green a moment before a large and rapidly expanding hole began to melt its way into baseball bat-boy's chest. His eyes went wide in shock. The baseball bat fell from his grasp. By the time he collapsed to the floor, there was barely anything left of his torso.

Stepping through the window came two heavily armed individuals. One was a woman wearing a ponytail, dressed in high-grade green military combat armor. In her hands was a large, futuristic kind of weapon with a long barrel that ended in three pincer-like prongs. The other was a bald man in leather armor, a trenchcoat, and a gas mask hanging around his neck. In his hands he carried a rapid-fire combat shotgun.

'You know what?' said the woman. 'How 'bout we kick _you _people out of Old Town?' She casually raised her rifle again and fired another bolt of superheated plasma which struck the ground right in front of the two remaining drunken thugs. Seeing the concrete melt before their eyes, they turned, dropped their weapons, and fled.

Harold took a second look at the woman. She looked familiar.

Natalia rushed over to him and produced a worryingly large looking needle from her belt.

'Whoa, wait a second there now,' he protested, momentarily forgetting the terrible throbbing pain in both his leg and shoulder.

'Harold!' she said loudly almost directly into his face.

'What?!' he shouted back.

'This will speed up the healing process. Believe me. I know.'

'Well, I don't need the healing process to be—'

The needle came down hard into his thigh, drawing a hoarse wheeze of pain.

'Quit whining, you'll thank me in an hour or two,' said Natalia.

'Hey, I… I know you,' Harold said within the haze of pain. 'You're that deathclaw girl…'

'It's nice to see you again,' she said.

'Spare change?' he asked hopefully.

Natalia smiled in return. 'That's not why we came back,' she said.

'Then why _did _you come back?' asked Harold

'To make a difference. Hopefully. And to tell you something about your friend, Richard Grey.'

'Richard?' Harold said in surprise. 'What do _you_ know about him?'

'Something you may not like.'

An hour later, the pain had subsided and the adrenaline had worn off. Natalia had taken off her PIPBoy and placed it on a small coffee table in the middle of the room.

'So let me get this straight,' said Harold. 'You came all the way back here from that base I told your friend about to tell me something you say I won't want to hear.'

'Well, part of it was that we're on our way to the Boneyard to visit an old friend of mine,' said Natalia. 'But there's also something else – something Tycho and I decided we had to to do in honor of one of our fallen friends. He faced the same kind of trouble you've been experiencing here and in the end he… passed away… in part because of it. We'd like to do what we can to stop that kind of thing from happening again.'

'That's quite an ambitious goal you have there, friend,' said Harold. 'Not sure if you'll make much progress... Don't get me wrong. I'm sure grateful for you coming 'round when you did, but I'm not looking for any pity here, neither…'

'Maybe you'll get a better sense of how this is all connected after listening to the recordings.'

'Even though I won't like what I hear…'

'The fate that befell Richard Grey… it was caused by the same thing that affected you and our friend. You deserve to know the truth… but it's not going to be easy.'

'Well, until you came here today, I'd been under the impression Grey died when I last saw him fall into that acid.'

'That wasn't acid,' said Natalia.

'And you're telling me this was a collection of recordings from _after _he fell into those vats?'

Natalia nodded.

'Well, then I don't have much of a choice, do I?'

Natalia hit the replay button on her PIPBoy.

**0000 - 0008**  
><strong>I'm… dying... I need… I need to get this down before the pain overwhelms me.<strong>

**0009 - 0039**  
><strong>I can't believe that I was finally able to drag myself out of that vat… The slime didn't affect me… but I nearly drowned… I don't know what happened to Harold – he was standing right next to me when the crane knocked me into the vat. He must have been killed or he would have tried to help me… Francine is dead… killed by one of those robots.<strong>

**0040 - 0052**  
><strong>I have no idea how much time has passed… I was able to hack the computer to turn off the robots and record this, but now… now I feel like my mind is slipping away… The pain is... excruciating…<strong>

**0053 - 0068**  
><strong>The green slime that I was immersed in is the source of all the mutations we traced to this place. My skin… My skin is starting to fester and peel… In other areas it's bubbling and starting to expel a green… mucus-like substance… Some days the pain is almost tolerable.<strong>

**0069 - 0082**  
><strong>I can actually walk a few steps again... It seems inconceivable that I dragged myself all the way up here from the vat room. Strangely, I'm actually feeling stronger, though I'm still in a lot of pain. Everything seems to be getting smaller.<strong>

**0083 - 0121**  
><strong>I think I consumed one of the mutated things scurrying around here today. Before I knew what was happening, some sort of tendril had sprung from my stomach and covered the poor creature. As soon as it had sucked the rodent into my gut, I could actually <em>feel<em> its mind. I think… There is the very real possibility that I'm going slowly insane and can no longer differentiate between what is real and what is a hallucination. Maybe I'm still slowly dying in the vat and I've imagined all this.**

**0122 - 0136**  
><strong>Things are becoming clearer to me every day. This toxin has actually improved my mind. I feel that I can understand even the most complex philosophical questions simply and directly. It's as if all the layers of artifice have been stripped away. I wonder what would happen if I submerged an animal in the vats for a prolonged period of time? Would it gain awareness?<strong>

**0137 - 0159**  
><strong>The strangest thing is happening to the animals. They actually become smarter and more aware of their surroundings. I dipped a dog and a rat at the same time today, and they were fused together. It's not quite two creatures anymore, but it's more than one. Perhaps this is the future – a coming together of different creatures in some sort of harmonious unity. I no longer consume the different animals I create simply for sustenance – I have become the instrument through which unity will be achieved. I am so much more than a human being now.<strong>

**0160 - 0164**  
><strong>It is time to bring others into the glory that is the Unity.<strong>

**0165 - 0178**  
><strong>A lost soul has finally strayed into my home. I was so surprised I consumed him before dipping, a mistake I shall not make again. His mind was so primitive as to be repulsive to my refined cognitive abilities.<strong>

**0179 - 0197**  
><strong>I've begun to modify myself to be more pleasing to the Unity by injecting small doses of the virus into my body. The slime in the vats is a man-made virus called the Forced Evolutionary Virus. This information was acquired from my newly grown neurolink with the base computer.<strong>

**0198 - 0223**  
><strong>The few wanderers who have found their way here have been a disappointment to me. They can't seem to mutate correctly. The best I've been able to create are some big and dumb mutants. Most can recall nothing from before I initiated them into the wondrous Unity. I only feed on them for fuel, now. Their minds are nothing to me.<strong>

**0224 - 0261**  
><strong>Oh glorious Creator! I have succeeded in spreading the complete joy of unification to another soul! Unlike the others, his total radiation count was low. I believe this is the factor we have been overlooking all this time, as it seems the conversion is more successful in the cases with less radiation damage. I have never known such glory as I felt when taking his mind into our own.<strong>

**0262 - 0306**  
><strong>We are beginning to create an army dedicated to unifying the wonderful diversity of life. We have trained them to continue our work here while we search out more populated areas to take into ourselves. We are beginning to feel the limitations of a body that is mobile. We must find a permanent home, with a greater store of knowledge, and a steady supply of bio-mass.<strong>

**0307 - 0328**  
><strong>We have stopped increasing ourself until we can find this new unification center. When we have arrived we will continue to grow and feed until we have brought peace and unity to the entire world.<strong>

When it was finally all over, Harold just sat there. He didn't look horrified or sad or even surprised. 'So all this mutant business we've been having… that's all been Grey…' he said and didn't say another word for another full minute as he stared off into space.

'Are you alright, Harold?' asked Natalia.

'I guess if I came out looking like _this_, I shouldn't be surprised he got it worse,' he said. Then he looked up at them. 'Thank you… For showing me this. It's long past time I put those ghosts to rest.'

'We're sorry it turned out the way it did,' Natalia said.

'We were _all_ victims of that place,' said Harold. 'In many ways I think I got it better than a lot of other folk.'

Natalia and Tycho gave polite but slightly uncomfortable smiles, recalling Alex's recent passing with a pain that was still a long way from fading.

'So you say it's over now…?' Harold continued.

'The virus – the FEV – is,' said Tycho. 'But as you've already been experiencing since you started…'

'Started changing, yes, you can say it.'

'Well, our friend faced the same thing. Maybe not for as long as you have, but certainly with the same kind of animosity. If we're ever to move on and rebuild from all this, something's got to be done about it. That's why Natalia and I decided to come down here for a time… try to make this a better place for those whom others might otherwise be discriminated against purely on account of their looks.'

'What makes you so certain you'll succeed?' asked Harold.

'Oh, we're not certain,' said Tycho. 'But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. And besides… after marching into a base full of mutants and robots and coming out alive, the thought of… "convincing"… a couple of obstinate politicians to improve the conditions of those in Old Town doesn't seem quite as impossible as it might have a few months ago.'

'If not for that, I'd have told you you were just being naïve,' said Harold.

'But will you help us anyway?' asked Natalia.

'I will,' the other ghoul they had saved piped in all of a sudden.

Harold smiled. It was a gentle, upward curl of his lips that, despite his facial deformities, was unmistakable as a genuine smile. 'You bet,' he said. 'With you two here, maybe there _is _hope for this city after all.'

Natalia smiled back. Tycho drew closer to her and wrapped his hand around her waist. She returned the gesture. They still had many travels ahead of them. Of that they were sure. She wanted to head on down to the Boneyard to see Katja again. He eventually wanted to go back east and see his people again. But for now, there was something here that they had both agreed upon. Alex would have wanted it that way. For now, they were exactly where they were supposed to be.


	39. Chapter 38: Inconvenient Truths Part III

So, in the game, the story would have ended with the events of this chapter. But since I don't think that works quite so well in a novel, I'm adding one last chapter after this to tie things up nicely.

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Inconvenient Truths, Part III**

It was just him now. The rats had long gone from the cave. Perhaps there had just been too much traffic through the tunnels over the past few months. Either way, they were gone too. Now it was just Albert, standing alone at the cog-shaped outer vault door.

So this was his triumphant return. Funny. He had always pictured it ending differently. For one, he had always expected it to feel at least a bit more celebratory. But here he was, standing alone in the darkness of the cave – the very same cave through which he had passed at various times with Natalia, Stone, Alex, Theresa, Dogmeat, Ian, and Tycho. Now Natalia and Tycho were off living their lives somewhere out in the wasteland. Theresa was back in the Vault where she probably should have stayed right from the start. Stone, Alex, Dogmeat, and Ian were all gone from this world. Counting Dogmeat, that was half of the entire team. That was the casualty rate of all their escapades: fifty-percent.

Albert was attired in the downgraded, standardized Brotherhood combat armor. When he had announced to Rhombus that he would not be returning to the Brotherhood, he had promptly been asked to return the suit, nevermind that it had originally been condemned as scrap metal before Alex had fixed it.

But, in the end, Albert had given it up willingly. It wasn't like he was going to have any use for it anymore. No more wars. No more killing. No more executions. No more wasteful deaths. It was time to go home. He had stayed with Natalia and Tycho until Natalia's wounds had healed. But once they had turned south and headed for the Hub and the Boneyard, he had had no more reason to stick around in the woods surrounding the remains of the Mariposa military base. So he had packed up what little he had left and turned east, back in the direction of Vault-13, back in the direction of home.

Would he be able to readjust to life in the Vault? Or had all the terrible things he had done meant that there really was no going back anymore? He wasn't sure. But there was a comforting thought behind it all. He wasn't just going back to the Vault, to the people of the Vault whom he had been instrumental in saving from a fate that Alex had regrettably and tragically experienced firsthand. He was also going back to someone who had, against all odds, convinced him that he didn't _have _to rely only on himself. Even knowing some of the things he had done, she had still accepted him. He wasn't sure anyone else would have. He knew _he _probably wouldn't have accepted someone like that if the positions had been reversed.

Of course, she still didn't know _everything_. Maybe if she did, she wouldn't have been quite so understanding. But that part he could hide. That part he would always have to carry with him till the day he died. But maybe it was a burden that would become easier to bear over time in a place where there would be no more temptation to do terrible things in order to survive or to ensure the wellbeing of those he cared about.

'Home sweet home,' he murmured to himself as he reached for the control panel to announce his return.

Before his fingers could reach the keypad, he heard the sound of machinery as the mechanisms that controlled the opening and closing of the heavy outer door began to come to life. That was strange. How could anyone have known he was coming back? Or was someone _else _leaving? Or…

Albert felt a sudden rush of panic. Had some mutant patrol found the Vault while he and the rest had been out fighting the Lieutenant and destroying the Vats? Albert reached for his plasma pistol. As the door rolled out of the way he beheld…

Jacoren. It was the Overseer.

Albert sighed with relief and reholstered his weapon. He really _had _been out in the wasteland far too long. He would have to do something about those nerves. Maybe an hour-long shower and then three hours more of massage therapy. Albert could already see it in his mind. His old room. His old shower. And there was Pat. Maybe they could turn that one night together into something more. Maybe start a family. Have a child. A baby girl. Maybe two. His father had always envisioned him having a son – someone to pass down the family name – but daughters were better. At least they'd remind him more of Pat than of himself. He could live with that. He _wanted _that. He didn't really care if he faded from history. He just wanted to go back being a nobody.

'I wasn't expecting this kind of a welcome,' Albert admitted to the Overseer. 'But… how did you even know I was back?'

'There's a camera over in that corner, just above the door,' said the Overseer. 'It's not very visible.' The Overseer had a funny, almost expectant, look on his face when he said that, but Albert couldn't figure it out. It was almost as if the Overseer had been waiting for him to respond to that statement. But Albert couldn't think of what he was supposed to say in return. Maybe he was just tired. All that fighting and then traveling had sapped his alertness and cognitive abilities… all the more reason he should get in and hit the showers and then visit the massage therapist.

'Well,' said Albert, 'it's awfully nice of you to come all the way up here just to greet me. I wish I had that kind of a warm reception out in the wasteland.'

'Don't worry about it,' said the Overseer. He seemed a bit reserved in his demeanor, maybe even a little uncomfortable for some reason. But, again, Albert was too tired to read anything into it. 'Where's the rest? Where's Natalia? Her friend Tycho. Alex. That dog of yours.'

Albert looked crestfallen. 'They're not… coming back,' he said. The implication was misleading, but for all practical purposes, it was true.

'They're all… gone?' the Overseer sounded devastated.

Albert nodded. He didn't need to tell the Overseer that Natalia had chosen _not _to return. Let him think of her as a martyr. It was better that way.

'That's… terrible news,' the Overseer said mournfully. 'I'm sorry, Albert.'

Albert shook his head and waved off the remark, trying to appear less affected than he really was.

'We're going to have to come up with another plan,' the Overseer said. He moved over and sat on a small boulder near the entrance. 'I hate to have to ask this now, but… what's the status with the mutants?' Albert was confused. Why were they having this conversation out here? Why not head down to his office where it was much more comfortable? Maybe break open another bottle of brandy… Again, Albert suspected he was just tired. The Overseer was always all business, after all. If he had decided to come all the way up here to meet Albert, it wasn't really all _that _surprising that he would want to hear everything before he dismissed Albert.

'After what we talked about the last time you were back, it's been getting just a little more worrisome everyday,' the Overseer confided. 'Those Water Merchants came by not two weeks after you left, trying to set up some other trading deal with us despite what I told them about not coming back this way. They told us… told _me_… that there've been more attacks by mutants lately – that some city had been overtaken by the mutants, forcing its inhabitants to flee east, or something like that. Got me _pretty _nervous, I can tell you that.'

Albert refrained from taking a seat on the rock next to the Overseer. He remained standing. It wasn't like he had to say a whole lot about the mutants. There was just one thing that mattered. 'No need to be worried,' he said. 'It's over.'

'Over?' The Overseer's wide eyes reflected his surprise, but in it was also something else: a glimmer of hope. And it was rapidly growing. 'What do you mean? As in…'

'Completely over,' Albert clarified. 'The Vats are gone. The place that was producing those super mutants has been blown to pieces. The mutant armies have scattered; they fled east – _way _further east than the town where those Water Merchants are from. So you don't have to worry about them painting an arrow pointing to the Vault anymore.' The Overseer looked like he could scarcely believe it. 'You thought I was just here to give you another useless update, didn't you?' Albert joked.

'I… you've… you've really done it?' The Overseer genuinely amazed. He got off his rock in excitement. 'I can scarcely believe it!'

'_I _can scarcely believe it,' Albert admitted.

'That's…' The Overseer seemed at a loss for words. 'That's wonderful!… Amazing! I'm so… _proud _of what you've accomplished – what you've _endured_!'

'Well, it's done,' said Albert, feeling relief for the first time in ages. It was as if only now that someone else had acknowledged it did it finally seem real.

'There's no way the people of Vault can ever thank you enough for what you've done,' said the Overseer reverently. 'You've saved all our lives. Who knows, maybe even saved the human race.'

The Overseer had been walking as he spoke. Now he was back in front of the entryway to the Vault, just as he had been when they had first started talking. The Overseer gave a warm, grateful smile. Then Albert caught a flicker in the old man's gaze. The Overseer sighed, ever so slightly. 'That makes the rest of this… even harder,' he said, a weariness beginning to creep into his voice.

Albert frowned, confused. 'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Everyone will want to talk to you,' the Overseer explained. 'Every youngster will look up to you. Hell, that was already happening the last time you came back. They'll want to emulate you.' He paused and looked directly into Albert's eyes. 'And then what?' he said rhetorically.

'I… still don't get it,' said Albert. He thought it over. The Overseer gave him the time he needed to process what the Overseer had just said. Then it hit him. 'This is about leadership in the Vault, isn't it?' Albert said. He raised his hands in a gesture of peace. 'You have nothing to worry about in that department. I have absolutely _no _intention of trying to take up the reigns anymore. I'm not even interested in leading the Exodus. I just—'

'They'll want to leave,' said the Overseer, correcting Albert's erroneous conclusion. And with those words, Albert felt a growing lump in his throat. For the first time, he finally understood what the Overseer had been getting at. 'What happens to the Vault if we lose the best of a generation?' the Overseer continued. 'What if _we_ are the only safe place left in the world?' The Overseer looked at him, clearly uncomfortable what he was about to say next. 'You just gave us back all these lives…' he said. 'I… can't take the chance of losing them.'

Albert swallowed hard. 'What… are you saying, exactly,' he said, dreading the answer that he somehow already knew was coming.

The Overseer sighed again, more wearily this time. 'I've made a lot of tough decisions since I took this position,' he said, 'but none of them harder than this one.' He looked Albert dead in the eye once more. The next words that came from his mouth constituted the final nail in the coffin. 'I've spoken to the other leaders,' he said, 'and we've all agreed on one thing: you saved us… but you'll kill us. I'm sorry… You're a hero… and you have to leave.'

And just like that, the light of clarity burnt throught he fuzziness of Albert's hazy thoughts: the way the Overseer was standing, blocking entrance into the Vault, the comment about the camera – the hidden camera that had gotten a good view of Albert's execution of Lyle all those months ago… The Overseer wasn't just afraid of impetuous youths following Albert's example of leaving the Vault; Albert had always known that part of the Overseer's concerns. Rather, the Overseer was doubly afraid that the younger generation would become more and more like Albert in other… less savory, ways.

The Overseer gave a heartfelt, apologetic look at Albert, then turned and began walking slowly and tiredly back through the outer vault door to the airlock within.

This was… this wasn't right! This wasn't fair! This wasn't the slightest bit just! He had given up everything for the people of the Vault and now… THIS was how he was to be rewarded for all the pain and suffering and anguish and sacrifice?!

Frustration born of aspirations that had suddenly and brutally been quashed bubbled up within him. Frustration turned to anger. Anger turned to rage. Before he knew it, his hand was moving to his plasma pistol.

It would be so easy. The Overseer was right there with his back to Albert, totally defenseless. After everything Albert had had to go through since first leaving the Vault, there was nothing this old man could do to stop him. Hell, even if the entire older generation of vault dwellers decided they didn't want Albert back, they _still _wouldn't be able to stop him. They were innocent and naïve and defenseless, and he had learnt much in his travels.

In his mind's eye, Albert could see it: a plasma bolt straight into the Overseer's back, blasting him off his feet and melting a gaping hole into his side. As the plasma spread to the Overseer's left limbs, the old man would crawl desperately to the relative safety of the Vault, his entrails spilling out and creating a bloody trail behind him. And Albert would calmly walk up behind him and put one final plasma bolt into the old man's head.

Albert broke from the reverie and found the gun in his hand, the barrel pointed at the Overseer's back. His hand was shaking with rage.

And then Albert caught sight of the partially-concealed camera. If the Overseer had watched him through that camera, who else had? Did the other leaders have access to the recorded videos from this camera? And if so, did that include Theresa and Pat since they were technically leaders of a subgroup of the Vault population? What would Pat think if she saw him now? Would she still want him back if he came back to her in this way? Would she still accept him and his troubled past if he executed the one problem standing in the way of his return?

Who was he fooling? They had spent _one _night together born of trying circumstances. That was far from proof that she cared enough to even be caught in such a dilemma about him. Lyle may have been a different matter. But chances were that if she saw him do this, she along with everyone else would see him for the monster he had become and more than happily support the Overseer's final directive.

Either way, he had lost.

Albert's shoulders slumped and his arm lowered under the weight of the pistol.

'Do my parents know about this?' he asked.

The Overseer paused and did a half turn. 'Yes,' he said gravely.

'And did they support this decision?'

'I'm sorry,' said the Overseer. That in itself was all the answer that was required.

As the enormous outer vault door rolled into place, Albert fell to his knees, his body and mind unable to deal with the emotional overload that was wracking his system. His legs were made of lead. There was a lump in his throat the size of a baseball. He couldn't talk and couldn't move. So he just knelt there on the cold cavern floor, oblivious to the passing of time.

The lights over the vault entrance dimmed, then shut off completely and Albert was left again in the darkness of the cave. Just as before, he was on his own once again, alone.

* * *

><p>END OF CHAPTER<p>

Just so I don't end up having tons to say at the end of the next chapter, I'm going to say some of it here:

FUTURE PLANS:

First of all, I'm going to proofread this novelization, looking out for stylistic awkwardness, typos, and plot or logical inconsistencies. This will be a slow but tangential process that will take place alongside my other writings, after which I will repost all the updated chapters for this story. Nothing major will change in terms of the plot and characters, so you won't be missing anything if you're totally done with this novelization.

Second, the response on my poll for a F2 novelization was not quite as overwhelming as I was looking for in order to justify turning my attentions there right after this. So, my next major project will be Baldur's Gate. However, I did get a couple more encouraging votes for F2 in the last week or so, so I'm not discarding that idea. It just won't be my next project (this is partly also because according to canon, the main protagonist of F2 is male, and I would like to switch it up a bit for awhile). Also, there's one big plausibility issue I have with F2 that I don't know how to fix yet: how is it that after merely 2 generations, some of the key people in Arroyo lose all sense of modern vocabulary and knowledge? Why do they behave like a tribe that has never seen or heard of modern technology before? Surely, even if they had absolutely no access to tech, their parents would have told them of some of these things. And surely their language would not have simplified so much in that time. This is an issue I would have to think over before I start on an F2 novelization.

On Baldur's Gate: This will not be as extensive as Fallout 1 because a lot of the sidequests are just superfluous and don't really add to the main plot or to the picture of the world in which the story is set (i.e. it probably won't be a 300k word novelization). However, I will be providing as much context to the story as possible so that, hopefully, the world will seem as rich or richer than the one I described in this novelization. The reason for the BG novelization is: (1) while there are a few full-length novelizations already out there on BG I and BG II, there are none I know of that tie together the whole saga. While I won't be writing all the three parts at one go, my intention is to write the whole saga eventually; (2) I NEED to get rid of the bitter aftertaste that was the official novelization.

Third, because BG will be another major writing project, I may decide to do a relatively short novelization before that, as a bit of a palate-cleanser. To that end, I'm considering doing a quasi-novelization of Hitman: Codename 47 ('quasi' because it will be told from the perspective of other observers, which I think is the best way to introduce any kind of awe-inspiring, feared, or well-respected character). Not sure if it will work yet. If I can figure a way to make it work, I will go ahead and do that first. If it happens, it will be short. Probably no more than 80,000 words.


	40. Epilogue: New Beginnings

I thought of holding off on posting this final chapter until the viewership started dipping but, ah, hell, hate to keep you all waiting. So here it is.

But before that: Another self-reflexive point of note... I realized that in addition to my treatment of Natalia's character (and perhaps gender more broadly), I've also been giving the notion of 'family' a pretty bad rap in this story. I think one minor disadvantage of fan fiction based on video games is that it often excludes the familial element simply because family isn't usually an important part of gameplay. However, that gives a slightly skewed picture of social life. Even if one's family is not present, there are surely influences or counter-influences that are present in the main and side characters' lives. All in all, not a _huge _issue, but one I think I should have treated with more nuance; maybe in the next stories or if I decide to tweak this one just a little when I proofread.

Anyway, rambling aside, here it is: final chapter of a 2.5-year writing process.

**Epilogue: New Beginnings**

Pat breathed in the harsh night air. For the fifth time that week, she began to doubt herself.

It had all started when Alex's computer program had gone on full alert one day – something it was programmed to do if the Overseer ever went black ops on his computer files. When the data purge began, Alex's program immediately started making copies of every file as it was deleted. The vast majority of it Pat and Theresa had already seen. But then they had stumbled across the most recent file – a video recording of the entrance to the Vault. There it was, with full audio: the Overseer condemning their savior by banishing him forever from the home he had fought tooth and nail to save. Theresa had openly expressed her wish that Albert had pulled the trigger.

But to Pat, when Albert's eyes had looked up at the camera, it was as if he had looked directly at her. She had _seen _the conflict and remorse in his gaze as he lowered the weapon. Then she had seen him sink to his knees in despair. Even after Theresa had gone to rouse the other members of the Exodus to righteous action against the Overseer, Pat had remained at the computer, her eyes glued to the screen. Second for second, she had sat there watching Albert's unmoving form for over an hour. Eventually, he had gotten to his feet, turned his back on his home, and walked slowly away, a broken man. And she had reached out to the screen, as if she could call him back. But he hadn't turned.

And so the revolution began, if it could be called that. Thanks to Theresa's subterfuge, Alex's computer program, and the natural human inclination for gossip, pretty soon the entire Vault population had heard of what the Overseer had done. In less than a day, multiple locked security doors had been broken down by furious vault dwellers – no small feat, given the crude tools they had had at their disposal – and the vault's leaders had been cornered. Theresa had come within inches of driving a power tool into the Overseer's head. But Pat had stayed her hand. It was enough of a punishment for the Overseer's foremost fear to be realized: the vault dwellers were leaving.

Everyone on the Exodus signed up. A few others volunteered as well. A large number of others were on the fence, incensed by the Overseer and the other leaders' actions but too fearful of the outside world to want to leave. In the end, Pat, Theresa, and those who had had enough of the isolationist tendencies of the Vault leaders had taken what supplies they had calculated they would need and left.

Before that, Pat had paid a visit to Albert's parents. Until that day, she had never really spoken to them. She had been under the impression that once upon a time, they too had expressed interest in opening the Vault's doors, just like many of the others. But then something had changed over the years and, especially, over the time during which Albert and the rest had been out saving the Vault. Maybe the Overseer had been feeding them little white lies to change their minds; Albert's father was one of the leaders of the Vault, after all, and the Overseer likely had his ear whenever he cared to. Or maybe Albert's parents had detected a progressive change in their son every time he had come back. And maybe that last video of Albert and Lyle had been the last straw for them. The Overseer had definitely showed it to them. They had said as much to Pat on that last day in the Vault. So even Albert's family had rejected him.

Of course, it wasn't as if they had enjoyed making the decision. They had certainly seemed deeply saddened by their decision when Pat had questioned them. But, ultimately, in the end, they had still felt certain that the decision they had made along with the Overseer and the other leaders had been the right one. Pat couldn't understand that. And that had just made her angrier.

Now she wondered who would be having the last laugh.

She glanced up at Theresa. The moon was partially covered and she could barely make out her friend's features in the darkness.

'I'm sorry—' she started to say before Theresa cut her off.

'Don't,' Theresa warned her. 'We all came here of our own accord. This wasn't about the freedom of choice to live where we want. Not anymore. This was as a protest over how they treated Albert.'

'But—'

'And that's all that matters. Now take these bullets. Load them till they're flush with the top of the magazine, just like I showed you. Don't overload or the weapon may jam. Can you do that?'

Pat nodded, and took the handful of 10mm rounds Theresa passed her.

'I wish I had gotten to see him before… this,' Pat said.

'Me too,' Theresa admitted, then went back to loading her own weapon.

Pat had just loaded the last round and slid the magazine into the Colt when they all heard it. The chittering sound of mandibles clacking together and the disconcerting clicking noise of insect legs skittering over stony ground.

'Alright, backs to the cliff face!' Theresa yelled 'Whatever you do, don't let them break through the line!'

Their numbers had been sixty-five when they had first set out weeks ago. Now there were just over fifty, half a dozen of whom were suffering some physical injury or other. They had ascended the steepest hill they could find, hoping the incline of the terrain would be too much for the animals to follow. But they had been wrong. And now there was nowhere to run.

With their backs to the cliff wall, the group drew together, some with pistols, one with a shotgun, a few with baseball bats and hand tools, the rest with sticks and stones gathered from the wasteland. Then, from just over the crest of the the closest of the undulating hills below them came the four gigantic mutated scorpions, each one bigger than the average human. Their black hides would have been invisible if not for the fact that they reflected what little moonlight was present.

'Fire!' Theresa yelled.

The shotgun winged the nearest scorpion. But nothing else seemed to work. The bullets from the Colt merely splattered against the scorpions' hardened carapaces. The stones had absolutely no effect. Soon, the scorpions were upon them and, try as they might, they couldn't hold formation. Everything fell into chaos soon after: loose bullets and stones flying everwhere, people trying harder to outmaneuver the much faster scorpions than to actually kill them, and still others failing and ending up getting stung by the scorpions' wicked-looking stingers or grasped within their powerful pincers. Both Pat and Theresa knew that they had to stick together. Once they got scattered, other scorpions in the area would pick them off one-by-one. But not everyone knew that, and if things kept up the way they were going, they would all be scattered and dead by morning.

In the meantime, though, both of them had their hands full. While Theresa was trying to draw the attention of one of the scorpions away from a family of four, Pat had her own problems to deal with. One scorpion, in particular, seemed to have set her in its sights and was now rampaging towards her. She fired wildly until her gun was empty. Some of the shots hit, but didn't even slow down the creature.

'Move, Pat!' she heard Theresa yell from somewhere, but she knew it would be too late. She was just about to raise her hands, as if they would somehow ward of the scorpion's attack, when there came from somewhere behind her, off to her right, the sound of a rapidly increasing whine, as if of some kind of power generator. There was a brief high-pitched explosion, a flash of bright green that lit up the night for a moment, then the scorpion collapsed as a rapidly melting hole opened up in the middle of its head.

Everyone froze at the strange new sound. Another small high-pitched explosion. Another scorpion went down. Momentarily distracted just like all the others, one of the members of their group succumbed to the attacks of one of the remaining scorpions. Pincers like a steel vice clamped around his leg, drawing blood instantly. Unable to free himself, the man had no way out when the scorpion's long stinger plunged rapidly repeatedly into and through his back. By the time he had collapsed to the ground, the poison was already rapidly working its way to his heart.

'Don't let them get close!' yelled a muffled voice in the dark from the same direction as the source of whatever weapon had created those green explosions.

Another of the scorpions was nearby. Pat turned to flee when she realized the scorpion was headed after Theresa. Theresa tried to flee. She managed three steps before catching her foot on one of the fallen bodies. She went down.

Pat leapt into action. Closing the distance between her and the back of the scorpion, her hands went around the midsection of the scorpion's tail even as it tried to plunge its stinger into Theresa's back. Realizing something had attached itself to its tail, the scorpion spun, its pincers clacking noisily together, narrowly missing Pat's leg. At first, it seemed as if it was going to run circles around its tail as it tried to reach her, but, with a sudden burst of intelligence that shouldn't have been possible for an insect, the scorpion changed tactics and flung its tail backwards instead.

Unprepared for the sudden change in direction, Pat was struck in the face by the back of tail and sent sprawling. Freed from the weight on its tail, the scorpion turned in a flash, redirecting its attack towards her. The tail shot forward, the stinger arching high in the air as it prepared to strike downwards at her leg.

Something came between them. The stinger plunged into the mysterious figure's left shoulder pad and got stuck. As the scorpion tried to clamp its pincers onto the figure's leg, it was greeted by a flash of green light from a gun in the mysterious stranger's hand that melted a hole in the center of its head.

The stranger turned his attention to the last scorpion, some twenty yards away, chasing after some of the other group members. The stranger tracked the scorpion's movements with the energy pistol, careful not to catch anyone else in his crosshairs, then finally let off a final blast from the weapon. The scorpion's back legs melted into a puddle of goo, crippling its movements and setting it up for the final blast.

When it was finally all over, the stranger looked down at Pat. He was wearing some kind of bulky armor and a helmet with a visor. In one hand he carried a strange, futuristic-looking pistol.

'You people make enough noise to bring half the wasteland down on top of you,' he said disapprovingly before reaching out a hand to help her to her feet. '_And_, you leave enough tracks to draw the remaining half. I've been following you for the past four days – easiest tracking I've ever had to do.'

'Who are you?' asked Theresa coming up behind him. Her gun was partially raised, though she was hesitant given that he had clearly just saved their lives.

'Theresa!' Pat nearly shouted at her friend to stop her from accidentally killing their savior. 'It's… Albert!'

The helmet came off, and, sure enough, standing before them was the reason they had all left the Vault in the first place. The white hair, the sharp, chiseled features, and the haunted look were dead giveaways.

'Ri—' Not even half a syllable came out of Albert mouth before Pat had covered it with her own, her arms reaching around to hold him tighter than she had ever held anyone or anything.

When she finally pulled away, Albert had to gasp for breath. 'Right the first time,' he finally managed to say.

'Albert?' Theresa still couldn't believe it. 'What are you… doing here?'

'Right now, saving your asses,' he said, all business again. 'Get the wounded together. I have something for the poison. We can talk after.'

Later, when those who could be saved had been treated – using some strange concoction of milky white liquid with chunks of scorpion flesh floating within – Albert started a fireplace using his knife, a piece of flint, and the broken remains of some of the sticks the group members had used ineffectually against the scorpions. Pat gave Albert the brief rundown of how they had finally made their move and left the Vault only to find that they were woefully unprepared for the hardships of the wasteland.

'Which brings me back to my earlier question,' Theresa asked as Pat finished her story up to the point when Albert had shown up. 'What are you doing here?' She sounded less incredulous this time.

'I've been… hanging around for the past few weeks,' Albert admitted uncomfortably.

'Why?' she pushed.

Albert shrugged. 'I think I was trying to summon the courage to plead my way back into the Vault… or _shoot _my way back in. I don't know anymore…'

'You _should _have,' said Theresa, surprising Albert. It certainly seemed as if the Overseer's decision to exile him had finally taken her over the tipping point. 'You might have bumped into us sooner,' she finished.

Albert gave a wistful smile. 'I nearly did. Then I thought better of it.'

'Why?' Pat asked.

Albert shrugged again. 'Simple. In the end, he's right.' Pat started to shake her head in disagreement but he interrupted her. 'I _have_ changed. Life outside the Vault _is _different, and just being out here and surviving as long as I have means _I'm _different.'

'You're just… _forgiving _him for what he did?' Theresa asked incredulously.

Albert shook his head. 'A better man might,' he said. 'Maybe one day. But not now. I can't do it now. I'm not sure I even want to…'

'So what happens now?' asked Theresa.

'Well, I'd tell you all to go back to the Vault, but—'

'Not happening,' said Pat resolutely. 'Even if the Overseer allowed it, none of us want to go back to that kind of an environment. None of us want to stay with people who are so afraid of the unknown they would cast out their brightest star just to maintain their isolation.'

Albert gave a short laugh. 'I'm anything but bright and anything but a star,' he said, 'but if you're going to stay out here, then we need to move away from this place. There's nothing but wild animals in this area – the kind that are hungry for human flesh and hard to kill without the proper weapons. And,' he picked up one of the sticks that had been spared from the fire, 'you _don't _have the proper weapons. Plus, there isn't any good shelter here and the ground isn't suitable for cultivation. Even living as much off the land as I've been doing, I've still been dipping into my supplies more than I'd have liked.'

'Where will we go, then?' asked Pat.

Albert cast his glance over the entire group. 'Over four dozen people,' he mused. 'We're going to be too large for any one existing town or village to take us in,' he said. 'We'll have to start our own place – create a new beginning for ourselves.'

'Where?' Theresa asked.

'The south and east are too populated,' said Albert, 'and the west has… memories… that are best left forgotten.' Seemingly having made up his mind, Albert dusted off his hands. 'We'll head north,' he concluded. 'Get some rest. We won't get very far by night when the scorpions are most active, but if we want to avoid the rest of them, we'll need to be out of here by the next nightfall. We move at first light.'

Later when everyone else was resting, Pat moved closer to where Albert was sitting and rested her head against his shoulder. For a long while, they just sat silently, staring into the flames from the fireplace.

'Would you really have sent me back to the Vault if we had a choice?' she asked eventually.

'It's the safest bet you've got,' he said.

'That's not what I'm asking,' she said, moving her head and looking directly at him.

Albert didn't return her gaze. Couldn't. 'Pat, the Overseer _was _right about me,' he said. 'I'm not the kind of person you want around as a role model. I've done… things that I'm not sure I can ever really put behind me.'

'I know. You've told me about them. I—'

'That's not all of it,' he said.

'Albert,' she interrupted, before he could say anymore. 'Why are we going back to this? You are one of the _only_ reasons we, including everyone else in the Vault, are still alive. Yes, along the way, you may have done things you're not proud of, and maybe some of them _were _lapses in judgment and could have been avoided, but in the end, what matters is that you've survived, in part because of it. Survival isn't just about staying alive, it's also about putting yourself in the right frame of mind. And that's what you've done. Right now, the only human being left who's condemning you for what you did is you.'

'What if I do those things again? What if they've become so much a part of me, that I can't let go? What happens the next time I kill another person in cold blood right in front of your eyes?'

'That's what having people around you is for, Albert. To hold you accountable. If you're so convinced that you no longer have a conscience, then trust in those around you. Trust in _me_. _I'll _be your conscience.'

Albert thought it over a while longer before nodding slowly. They stared absently into the flames for several minutes longer as Pat allowed him to fully digest what she had just said. 'What if I disagree with my new conscience?' he finally said, half-facetiously this time.

'Then we'll have one hell of an argument,' she replied before adding, more seriously, 'but at least we'll be talking about it.'

'Alright,' he said, conceding to her argument. Even the notion of conceding an argument was like letting go of another part of his old life – an old life he was now trying to put behind him. It felt liberating… Just a little. He lifted his water flask and took a swig of the cool, clear, purified Vault liquid within, the supplies of which he would not likely ever be replenishing again. He sighed, as he briefly thought about what he had just agreed to. 'It's not going to be easy,' he said, earning a warning look from her before he finished the rest of his sentence: 'but I'll work on it.'

'Good,' she said, leaning in to kiss him. As he moved forward to meet her halfway, she paused, momentarily denying him access. 'And don't make me have to have this conversation with you again,' she whispered the warning into his mouth.

'I disagr—' he started to say before she sealed the kiss.

Theirs had been the last shift for guarding the camp, and it came to a close as dawn began to creep over the sky. Gradually, the darkness of the events from the previous days, weeks, and months was cast off by the rising sun, its first rays bathing their campsite in a warm morning glow that held the hope of change and the promise of new beginnings.

THE END

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><p>(TOTALLY UNNECESSARY AFTER CREDITS TEASER JUST FOR THE FUN OF IT)<p>

ONE YEAR LATER

In the darkened interior of the tent lie two people: one woman, one man. They are dressed in tanned hides made from the skins of two-headed cows known as brahmin. Although they each have more protective and modernized forms of attire, there is little need for it here. In the budding new village they have helped to create, protected as it is from wild animals and would-be miscreants by a deep gorge crossable for miles around only by a narrow bridge, they can dress how they like and live how they like. Here, they are safe.

The man has white hair, and well-defined facial features that, only recently, have begun to lose the edge that had grown into them from months of hardship and both emotional and mental suffering. The man sleeps fitfully this night, though, his mind troubled by something new and foreign. Sweat beads his brow.

In a sudden lurch, he explodes from sleep, his eyes shooting wide open.

'Argyle, you magnificent bastard!' he abruptly exclaims, surprised that the last vestiges of his dream have leapt with him back into reality.

The woman stirs, her lids heavy with sleep. 'Albert… is everything alright?'

'Just a dream,' the man named Albert replies, though shaken by the vividness of the images in his mind. 'Go back to sleep, Pat.'

'Another nightmare?' Pat asks, worried. 'I thought they'd stopped.'

'No, not a nightmare,' he reassures her. 'Just a… really, really, weird premonition.'

* * *

><p>END OF WEIRD AFTER-CREDITS TEASER<p>

That one goes out to 'The One Who Reads Too Much' who insisted that this 'event' from Fallout 3 had to happen. There was no way I could include it in the actual story without spoiling the narrative, so I'm throwing it in here as an apocryphal addition. Hope you enjoyed it! Since it's not official, I might take this last bit down when I proofread the thing. But for now, here it is!

I know some of you may have wanted me to say something about the anticipated fight between Jacob and Marcus (which would also have been tangential to the main narrative). I had a choice between that and this. I picked Argyle because it was more fun. Sorry! :)

* * *

><p>ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS<p>

Many thanks to you readers who made it from the start all the way to this final chapter! Even though it can't compare to the more popular stories out on the website, just seeing the views per day (in an admittedly somewhat self-obsessed kind of way) kept me motivated to keep writing.

I would also like to offer thanks also to all the reviewers, including the one random reviewer who I think was actually a troll. Even though I did not reply to all the reviews unless I had something substantial to say (I tended to respond to those that included questions or that raised specific topics for further discussion), know that just seeing and reading all your reviews/comments/thoughts provided me with an especially strong motivational factor for the writing process.

I think I would also like to offer a few special special thanks. This goes to a couple of people for one or more of the following reasons: (1) offering useful and thoughtful feedback some of which I actually incorporated into this novelization; (2) responding to my occasional requests for specific feedback; (3) interesting and productive conversations about the story. These people are: Captain WOW; Coq; Omen004; Megatoast; Murus; robotcowboy19; Silka Sunshine; Snake MacReady; The One Who Reads Too Much; Write No More [Hey, I just realized that 'The One Who Reads Too Much' is very likely going to 'Write No More' :) ]. I hope I haven't missed anyone who falls in one of the above three categories, but if I did, I apologize. Don't hesitate to let me know so I can correct it!

I think I would also like to offer special^3 thanks to Murus who went beyond the call of duty as a reviewer and has corrected a number of glaring typos and errors, especially my tendency to throw Alex's name into places where they don't belong.

And… thazz'all folks! Done! I can finally discard the hundreds of megabytes of game screenshots and notes that I've been storing on my hard drives for years!

I think I've decided not to do Hitman and go straight to Baldur's Gate. I will probably write the first two or three chapters before beginning to upload them just to make sure the narrative is beginning to flow smoothly. So don't expect anything too soon. Plus, I think I might want to take a week or two break from writing. Maybe...


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